Pirates of the Caribbean: The Tears of Fate
by Immortalbookworm
Summary: An alternative ending takes up the story immediately after DMC. What if taking something out of Davy Jones' Locker came at a great cost? Enter the Tear Chamber. How will the characters fare when our favorite captain returns changed. Jack/Lizzie
1. Intro, Chapters 1&2

In the Mind of a Pirate

(Introduction)  
The Minds Eye

Will sat silently in the hold of the ship. He was all alone but his thoughts were heavy like a physical presence.

"I have to save you for her." He said aloud, as if Jack could hear. But he was dead. He was far away now. Will didn't know how far, but Tia Dalma was still having things packed into the Edge Racer, that ship she had conjured out of seemingly nothing. It was nothing like the Black Pearl, but it was still like no ship Will had yet seen.

Will was getting tired of the sea. It seemed like the sea was taking everything he loved. First his father, now the only ship that could save him, and it seemed Elizabeth too.

She had hardly spoken in the past couple of days. And whenever he went to hold her she simply lay her head on his shoulder saying nothing, refusing to hold him back.

If she was so lost without Jack, he would find him, to find her again.

Jack opened his eyes.

This was something he didn't expect, being dead as he was.

He saw black, so he closed his eyes again. He saw Elizabeth, and shook his head to try to rid himself of her image. A lot of good her memory would do here.

Wait a moment, where was here? He felt very sure he was no longer in the beast. Maybe he was already in the locker. "That was right fast." He said to no one and his voice echoed his question in answer. "Right...fast...fast."

His eyes were beginning to adjust to the unearthly light that was darkness.

He was standing on the deck of the Pearl, Moving through the void of blackness that was the path to the locker, Guided by the form of the Kraken ahead of him.

"Not so bad." He said to it.

He had no idea.

(Chapter One)  
The Same Again

Elizabeth stood at the railing of the new ship, and stared out into the sea. It was a sight that she had often taken joy in, even when she lived in port royal she had loved to stare at the sea from her window. There was a wild reliability in that sight. The tide left and it came back, more reliable than clockwork but wild like a storm is wild, and beautiful like a sword in the hands of a master. Like Will. The sight had lost its majisty. It had become bleak like Elizabeth was bleak and depressed, like a the heavy weight of realization was physicly crushing her.

"Oh, God." She thought to herself. "How I wish Will and I could be the same again." She meant it with all her heart. She wanted to fall into his arms like she once had and know that he loved her and that, even more importantly, she loved him. Oh and she did, she could never stop loving Will and that was what hurt.

But it wasn't the only think that broke her heart. The memories peirced her heart like a cold blade in the dark. She hadn't expected this. Why had it always seemed so easy. Life was so fragile, and Will had never seemed bothered by the sights they had seen on their first adventure. She hadn't been either. Though pirates hadn't been what she thought they were. Especially Jack. He was an Enigma like no one she had ever met.

A deep sigh escaped her lips, and blended with the sounds of the waves lapping up against the sides of the boat. She closed her eyes but all she could see was his face and tear began to roll down her face again, cut trails across her dirty cheeks.

What hurt the most is that Will couldn't understand what was wrong. She could not bring her self to tell him the truth, not about the kiss, not about the murder. So she took her solice in solidtude and spent her time isolated from the rest of the crew, keep busy with her duties, and her thoughts.

Barbossa put his boots on the table in the captains cabin. Yes, it felt good to be captain...hell it felt good to be alive.

"Thank ye Tia. I owe you a debt." He grinned a grimy grin in her direction and then turned his attention to jack the monkey, who had managed to get hold of a cigar and was now chewing happily on one end.

"A debt you won' be payin' back no doubt." Tia looked back at the Captain with distaste.

Barbossa laughed and nodded, "Even so." He took a large wet messy bite of an apple, and tried to get his cigar back from jack without being bitten.

"I decided, knowing there would be a need. When a woman knows what must be done, her must sometime sacrifice da good for da greater good." She crossed her arms across her chest and gave the man the monkey a side long look.

"I will take that as a compliment." Said Barbossa, then he shouted, as jack jumped at him and a trickle of blood started from his dirty finger.

Tia Dalma drew herself up, and glared at the man before her, "Don't" She said and then swept out of the room. Leaving an invisible aura of mystic and magic behind her. Barbossa laughed, what harm did the spite of one voodoo witch do him? He was alive and Captain once more.

"And once again we are going to meet our friend CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow." He scratched the back of jacks neck, having forfeited the cigar. "And we will give him what we owe HIM. Oh, we can't have proper revenge if you're dead. When all this is finished, we will catch up like old friends will." Barbossa laughed an evil laugh, and no one heard him but the monkey, who hardly cared.

Cutler Beckett sat, musing and watching his new comrade move ravenously through yet another goodly sized steak, grinning all the while.

"May I suggest a sip of wine and a moment for digestion? It would hardly do if you came all this way, regained your life and then die tragically by the hands of a badly swallowed chunk of steak."

Beckett himself had eaten a small salad, having slowly lost his appetite through the past couple of days, which he had finished a good twenty minutes ago. Still he dabbed at the corners of his mouth for the hundredth time, now the cleanest surfaces in his immaculate dining room, and watched James Norrington finish his meal.

Norrington had changed in appearance drastically in the past few months, though Cutler didn't know this, but his finer clothing still suited him. He had abandon all thoughts of wearing a wig and kept his hair tied back simply and his lace sleeves clean no matter how roughly and quickly he ate his meals. He finally pushed his plate away. A young Negro slave came to the table to clear it. Cutler had many slaves, and he used them often, but not always gently. The idea had always made Norrington uncomfortable, and he avoided looking at the boy. Instead he looked at Beckett.

"Can you think of a better way ate ones freedom than with good food and...good company." He didn't sound sincere in his opinion of the company, "This is only my third fine dinner since I became a new man, as it were. I plan..." James paused and took a look drink form his wine glass. "To have many more and to enjoy all of them."

Though Beckett would never admit it, the newly reinstated commodore made him uneasy. He reminded him far too much of a younger Jack Sparrow. Arrogant, insolent, and always acting like he was two steps ahead, because he was. But YOUNG Jack had never been ruthless, and Norrington had no such compunctions.

"Would you like to come with me, I want to talk to you about something." James finished of his wine in one swig, like a regular buccaneer, and said.

"Anything for my benefactor, Lord Beckett." Beckett led Norrington to his favorite room, his office and map room. The map almost completed, as was Beckett's triumph.

"I am sure that you remember Governor Swann's daughter, hmmm what was her name?"

"Elizabeth." James answered quietly, quite a bit darker than what he had been a moment ago. Lord Beckett smiled at having hit a nerve.

"Well, as I am sure you know, having traveled with her for a while, she was last seen in the company of some pirates, and other criminals against the crown." Beckett clicked his tongue as if it was just a shameful thought.

"Yes, and what about it?" the commodore snapped, no longer feeling in good spirits.

"Oh, Commodore! What is this, no compassion? Oh, but think of the safety of the poor girl. A woman of her kind among, dare I say it, pirates. And Jack Sparrow too, I don't think she has much of a chance do you." Norrington raised an eyebrow. Beckett knew as well as he did that Elizabeth sailed with Sparrow of her own free will. What was he playing at now?

"I think it is our duty to help her, don't you? He poor father would be devastated should anything happen too her. And you know of course I have promised her father I would help her in any way I can. I think it is best if you and I go personally, and soon, to look for her ourselves. Don't you?"

Norrington's brow knit together in a deep and decided frown, "You mean to kill her?" The thought was painful even after everything she had put him through.

"No, no, what a thought! I mean to find her and help..." Cutler paused to laugh unable to contain it anymore. "in any way we can. What do you say, I am asking your professional opinion?"

"You want to control her father." Norrington nodded, finally understanding.

"Nothing gets past you does it?" Then as an afterthought, "Then there would be a marriage in it for you." This merited a laugh from Norrington.

"You really don't know Elizabeth." He said.

They began preporations then very next day.

Will took a deep breath, so deep it hurt. Elizabeth just stood there never looking up from her long vigil of the sea, the sea's emotions echoing her own. Dark and turbulent. Will aproached anyway, everything he wanted to say ready to leap off his tounge but when Elizabeths eyes met his he choked. Nothing came out of his open mouth, his mind screamed, "Say something you fool." but silence deafened him.

Elizabeth was the first to speak, "Are you alright Will? You look, uh, ill" He did, but he recovered well and spoke at last.

"That was the question I came to ask you." It wasn't, but the lie sounded like the truth and it rolled off his tongue like it was tired of lingering there.

"I am...I don't know..." She looked out into the sea again. Will thought he knew what, or rather who she was thinking of. He was right, Elizabeth saw that final look Jack had given her every time she closed her eyes, and when she opened them too. She heard his last word to her in ever creak of the ship, every lap of the ocean, and even when Will spoke somehow her mind mangled the words until the whole world was whispering "Pirate...pirate...pirate."

She thought that she would feel warm tears starting in her eyes, but they were dry. She couldn't cry anymore, not even for him, not even for herself.

"You may yet see him again, sooner than you think." Will said, though every word was a physical blow.

"Will, what did I do to deserve you? You don't...know some things about me. You should hate me." Will thought he knew, thought he could forgive her. Thought he had forgiven her.

"Nothing you could do, have ever done, or will do, or are doing, could ever, ever make me stop loving you. Nothing, never." Elizabeth thought that was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard, and she did feel a tear in her eye. And they kissed.

But of course it was nothing like it had once been. There had been a time when every one of his kisses had thrilled her, filled her with the most fantastic notions and ecstasies, but now she only saw HIM, and remember that fatal final kiss. It would never be the same again.

"There is something I need to tell you, now." She took a deep breath, so deep it hurt.

"Elizabeth I kn-" Will was cut off, by Gibbs' deep drawl call him to help with the rigging. "We'll talk in a mo-"

"Will!!" Gibbs called in obvious distress, Will kissed Elizabeth one more quick time and ran off, a load off his mind, now thinking that she was not too far gone after all.

Elizabeth sighed with exaspirated at the bad timing, "Men!" She whispered under her breath. She jumped at the sound of a slamming door. Tia Dalma immerged from the captains cabin.

(Chapter Two)

The Tear Chamber

The trip ended suddenly, with a jolt that woke Jack, who had some how managed to sleep on his way to hell.

He awoke stiff and sore, from sleeping on the cold hard deck of the Pearl, and disoriented, for all around him there was nothing but black endless corridors stretching on into whatever bleak forever was left to him down here. He stood and spun about, there was nothing but the same all around, hundreds of dark passages all indistinced and evil looking in the black.

Jack became aware of a dark coldness gripping his boots. The Black Pearl had vanished from beneath his feet and there was water on the floor, ankle deep and freezingly cold.

Tears, he knew instinctually, and suddenly he was aware of the blaring silence, the tangable sadness, the crushing black.

"The Locker." He said in a quiet voice like cannon fire in the silence. Everything was terrible, everything was tragidy. And of course Jack thought of Elizabeth. Dispair, a cruel commrade and ever ready to join you in your darkest hour, lay its hand on Jack. Jack felt himself starting to slip away into the black, possibly to join the pool of tears at his feet, or to add to them and never see light again, or Elizabeth.

That was when he began to run, he didn't know where. All he knew was that anywhere, anyone of those corridores must lead to a place better than this. There was a faint splash behind him. And then nothing, not even the sound of his boots on the ground. He found the hallway to be far worse than the chamber of tears. There was a pressence there, like a wisp of wind with a mind of its' own that pulled at his hair and clothes. Once he thought he felt clammy dead fingers brush against his face and that is when he ran faster than he had ever run in his life. A howl started up, tragic, angry, and wretched. It filled his ears, his heart, his lungs. Just when Jack knew that he must collapse and go mad...The light came.

It was the flickering light of a single candle. Jack found himself sitting in a rough wooden chair. It was like some sort of demented salvation, he thought, but then, of course he saw the sinister figure standing just out of the lights grasp, and he knew that he knew this room.

"Damn." He stated. It was and accurate assessment.

Tia Dalma look rather put out by something, her shoes clacked on the deck with graceful ferocity. She was hissing something under her breath that sounded like the crackling of a fire, but as she brushed by she seemed to notice she had an audience and her face changed character, splitting into a black toothed grin.

"Elizabef," Dalma greeted her, drawing out the E and slightly mangling the name until it fit her strange way of speaking "I hope I find you well, though I see I do not. What is troublin you now, has got somefin to do wif your man?"

"Oh it just we...how did you know?" She grinned again, beautiful and frightening.

"Jack Sparrow once said, 'There be nofin more obvious or dangerous than a woman troubled' when he foun' me in a foul mood." She became far away with memory.

"Jack Sparrow said that?" Elizabeth found her intrest had been peaked inspite of herself. "Where you and Jack..." She motioned with her hand, unable to find the right word, and wondering if there was one for what they "were".

"Once upon a time, but that were a long time ago." Tia nodded. Then became whistful once more. "Though a part of me never stopped lovin him. I loved many men afore him, an' after him too." She smiled at the memories,"But once you been got by Jack Sparrow, you never stop lovin him, though you don' know when you started." Elizabeths hands started to tremble a little. The thought of Jack was nearer now than it had been since the ship. Tia seemed to sense her distress, her voice becam soothing and soft. "We will fin' him. Him is Jack Sparrow, he were not ready to die."

Guilt racked Elizabeth's body, her eyes stayed dry but she was almost over come having to bear it all alone. If only Will had stayed and listened to her. If only Jack was here, if only, if only.

"I know it is a load to bear, but it were meant to be. Just like you are meant to be here."

"You know everything don't you? How can you be so calm there, why don't you run and tell the crew," The realization wasn't quite complete at that point, but as she spoke the words their full import sank in through all the denial and pain. "Tell them I kill their Captain." She was trembling visibly now, unbearibly tired and sad and angry all at once.

"I am not the one you needs to deal wif, nor is de crew. You needs must square with him, and I leave it to him to do what he must. I am not angry, it is as I said. I had seen it long before it were come to be. There is a purpose for all this, though we may not know for what it be." Tia was strong and certain and clearheaded about such thing, her feeling for Jack ran deep, but not as deep as some she thought.

Elizabeth shook her head, "I don't see how any of this could be planned, it seem all just to be some horrible miss adventure to me." For the first time since Jack died, Elizabeth almost wished she had some rum in hand.

"Even so." Soothed Tia Dalma, her face serene, her features impishly positioned so that she looked like she grinned even when she frowned. "Now you go talk to yer man." She nodded in the direction of the approaching Will, then excused her self and was gone. Elizabeth braced herself to tell Will all she had meant to, but somehow she had lost her nerve. Or maybe she WAS becoming more like Jack with every passing moment, Just like she feared.

"Elizabeth." Will called to her, his voice clear and calm. Like it had been wanting to say that name with such affection for some time. "Where were we?"

"I hardly remember." She answered, trying to hide her lie in an embrace. Will bent down to kiss her, when suddenly her face contorted, and there came a shout from her own mouth of intense pain.

"Elizabeth!! Whats wrong, are you hurt?" She crumpled to the ground, and Will followed closed behind her to cradle her head in his arms.

"My arm! Oh my arm it burns so! Stop it! Please stop it Will!" Elizabeth clutched at her right wrist so hard she began to loose feeling in her finger tips. Finally the pain lessed but only slightly, and Will was able to pull her hand away long enough to look at her wrist.

It was only there for a second, but what a second it was. Elizabeth saw it, and so did Will. And Tia Dalma knew what it was, even from her place in the shadow of the mast.

Tia whispered so that only she could hear, "They are connected then. We have hope."

There on the white wrist, delicate from years of tender treatment there was seen a ugly burned patch of skin in the shape of a P. A pirates brand. And then it was gone.

The light though welcome after the black of the hall soon began to burn Jacks eyes. An acrid smoke hang in the air, the smell of burning flesh. Only confirming Jacks worst suspiciouns. He breathed heavily after his run, but it sounded like fear. The an that stood behind him held his arm twisted painfully behind his back. His right wrist was tied tightly to the table, so that Jack could almost not lift his head to watch the man in the corner come into the light.

"Are you aware, Captain Sparrow, that these are very dire straights you find yourself in." Jack wanted to say, "Oh thanks mate, but for your warning I could never have guessed." But that hadn't been what he said.

He heard his own voice reply, "Mister Beckett, you know me you know I would never steal from the company! This isn't nessesary or lawful. Not without a trial." Jacks mind continued to scream 'Shut up you dolt, he doesn't care about the law, oh damn.'

"Tsk, tsk. Actually, the king himself has signed this." Cutler Beckett pulled an official looking paper out of his coat. "Do you know what this is? This document gives the East India Trading Company the right to protect its intrests by..." He picked a wicked looking branding iron from the fire. "Marking the traitorous pirates among us."

"Listen to me." The young Jack, Jack now found himself trapped inside was yelling, as if it would do any good. "Cutler, Cutler listen. I am no pirate. I hate them, hate them all, ever single one of them! God, let me go!" He struggled to no avail.

"Jack, Jack, Jack. You never were hard enough for our purposes. And you know too much to stay." Beckett leaned close to speak into Jack's ear. So close that Jack felt the heat of the red metal on his face, and heard the ringing in his ears. "Oh, and I should tell you, I won't be able to be there for it. I do abhor hangings." And then Cutler was done with talk, he marched around the table and held the iron above Jack's arm. Jack gritted his teeth, in his mind and in reality, resolving not to say a word aloud.

Cutler pressed the brand hard into his skin there was a hiss and the pain was unimaginable. Jack closed his eyes and remained silent in his agony. But a scream came to his ears, not his own, a feminine screaming, and then a voice crying for it to stop.

Elizabeth?

Jack's head whipped around so quickly it hurt, looking for the sound that came from just beyond his line of vision. But as he turned light turned to black, and once again there was a splash about his feet, and he stood in the chamber of tears.


	2. Chapters 3&4

(Chapter Three)  
She's Not Thinking of You

Elizabeth lay in the bed, feverish, and unable to sleep. Will tried to keep a careful watch over her but he feared that he wasn't a help.

Tia Dalma spent her days lingering around the door to the cabin, mumbling to herself in some unheard of language. When Will was called away to help with the ship or went to fetch food or water for Elizabeth she often slipped in and asked questions like.

"What does it feel like?" Or sometimes she would tell her to close her eyes and describe what she saw. It was mostly nonsense, or it sounded so to Elizabeth. An empty rum bottle, a pool of freezing tears, an angry drunk in a dark alley of Tortuga. And ever so often she heard gunshots ring in her ears. Tia just nodded like this was to be expected.

Tia looked worried whenever Elizabeth shouted in pain at the sensation of a cold blade across her shoulder or a hard impact like a fist in to the jaw.

"Hurry," she would say, not to Elizabeth but the ship itself. "Him don't have much time."

Once, when Elizabeth had managed to shake of the foreign despair that had come to her uninvited, she had be able to ask Tia Dalma, "What is happening to me? What does it have to do with Jack." The voodoo witch just shook her head, like she couldn't bear to say. Then she lay a hand on Elizabeth's brow and said some words to cool the aching fever.

Will was more and more distressed by the hour. Not only was Elizabeth's strange and sudden illness worsening, but she seemed to be able to talk of nothing but morbid images. Like and angry cutthroat smashing his fist across the face of a young boy, a blow she seemed to feel.

He could hardly stand to be near to her, but couldn't bring himself to leave her entirely. He went to get her some food and water. Knowing that she would not eat or drink anything. Will stepped into the galley and began to bang around the pots and pans until he found some bread and cheese.

Will had just begun to gather up a pitcher of drinking water when he heard an deep rumbling cackle form the doorway.

"Ha ha ha, oh it be a sad man so vexed by a little wench such as she." Barbossa jabbed his thumb behind him in the direction of Elizabeth's cabin.

"Don't speak to me!" Will answered, still sickened by the sight of the man before him, "I have nothing to say to you. Nor should you speak of Elizabeth that way, or any way." He spat.

"Easy mate, I want to help." Barbossa laughed as if the idea was funny. "Jack is a famous home wrecker."

"This has nothing to do with HIM."

"Oh doesn't it? Many an unhappy man is left in Sparrow's wake. But the lass on the other hand..." Barbossa took a wet bite of his apple.

Will pushed him bask so that the Captain stumbled on the stairs down into the galley. "Hold your tongue!" Will yelled passionately.

There was a thud, as Barbossa's apple hit the floor, and the sound that accompanies the drawing of a cutlass. "A little closer to the truth than you would like, eh boy? I still owe you from Isla de MUERTA." And with the last word the cutlass fell with a deadly thud.

The cutlass buried itself two inches into the table. Will one just had time to avoid the blow. His sword was out in a moment, flashing in the dim light like a serpent filled with fire.

Barbossa swung hard again and again. Not thought, no style just the need to kill the whelp that stood before him. He showed his yellow teeth in a mirthless grin and his eye flashed with hate, as he continued to push Will back farther and farther toward the wall where he planed to pin him like an insect.

Will side stepped him, jumping onto the table, kicking at Barbossa's head.

Barbossa swung at his feet. Will jumped once, twice to avoid him, and finally dove of back of table to keep the space between them. They circled one way and then the other.

"You boy, are looking to get yourself killed!" He tossed the candle in Will's direction and hot wax sprayed everywhere burning them both, but bothering them little. "And for what? A blonde trollop who could care less if you live or die right now!"

Barbossa kicked the table over, the pitcher of water that lay there flew across the room and shattered against the wall with the sound of breaking pottery and the trickle of water as it ran down the wall.

Will, who had been on the defensive since the sword were drawn, lunged at the Captain with a will across the open space. Barbossa caught his wrist and dug his yellowed finger nails into Wills skin until he bled. Barbossa brought his sword down on Will's neck but the blacksmith caught the pirate at the wrist, and for a moment they circled in a stalemate.

They each gave steps one to the other, and as they slowly turned they moved back into the blackness and then stood locked in a silent battle of will and strength for a long moment.

Pintel enters with a bored look on his face, carrying an armful of potatoes, closely followed by Raggetti who whittled on his eye a bit and took no notice of his surroundings.

"Well now, how did this go all screwy?" Pintel examined the wrecked table and broken bits of pottery that littered the ground. Raggetti looked up and there they stood for a moment, unaware of the epic struggle going on just out of sight.

Barbossa had managed to push his sword up to Turner's throat. He whispered to Will with his sour breath, "She's not thinking of you, mate."

Will brought up his foot, and kicked Barbossa hard in the stomach, sending him flying across the room just as Raggetti was saying, "Then where should we put the potatoes?" The Captain collided with Pintel, who bumped into Raggetti, who stumbled and fell sending pots and pant cascading onto their heads. Creating a sound that would have summoned the Kraken had it been near.

Will breathed hard, but stood tall and looked fierce. He held his sword to Barbossa's throat, with every intention of killing him right there.

"Stop dis foolishness right now!" Tia Dalma yelled from the entrance. Will was in no mood to listen, but he found himself unable to move, as was Barbossa.

"Mutiny! That is what this is. I will see you all walk the plank for such insolence such insubordination!" Tia Dalma gave him looked that quieted him.

"What were dis fight about?" She asked. Pintel and Raggetti shrugged, looked dazed.

"He insulted miss Swann!" Will answered almost immediatly.

"Keep better hold of yer sword mista Turner, be you sure it was not you he done insulted?" Tia looked at Barbossa.

"An' you, be remeberin' who it were that rezirected you and for what purpose." Barbossa gave her an evil look but said Aye.

Tia said, "Come wif me William, you best be lookin' afta Miss Swann."

(Chapter Four)  
Memory: A Bleak Beach in Tortuga.

Jack had lost all sense of time. In a moment he lived through years of his life, and then he spent another eternity on his knees in the tear chamber. Letting the cold water soak into his cloths and his mind.

When he could no longer stand the isolation, he would say to himself that any torment he could stand if he was not alone anymore. Then he would run in another direction, or was it the same as the first? To face whatever terror the chamber kept waiting for him...

...The dark howling desolved into a tranquil beach. The sky was over cast and the wind played gently across the tall grass, and pulled at Jacks hair like a fussy mother. Jack skipped a stone on the water. Three times! He smiled.

"Tortuga..." He whispered under his breath. He looked down at his hands. His fingers were ringless. There was no tatoo on his wrist, and the skin where the pirate's brand should be was smooth and clear. He was indeed very young. Seven years old he guessed.

A shadow fell across his back. There was a sharp yank at his ear. And a filthy, all too familar voice rang in his ears. "You slimy little wretch! This is where I find you! Lazing about when there work to be done. And what have you brought for me aye?"

Tears started in Jacks eyes, and unfamilliar sensation, "Please sir, this is all I could find." Jack's clumsy boyhood fingers fiddled with a purse at his waist. He drew out a three muddy shillings and a bottle of rum. The neck of the bottle was chipped and shattered wickedly. In the bottom a few swallows sloshed around, and nothing more.

"THIS!" Jack was backhanded sharply across the face, smearing the tears and dirt on his cheeks. The squat drunk and enraged man that stood before him, wiped the spittle from his mouth and yanked the items away from the boy roughly. His name was Vincenc, it meant "conquering". He had found Jack shortly after Jacks father had unfound him. He had taught Jack the meaning of the words misery and cruelty. He had also taught Jack how to pickpocket and curse.

"What is this? Three shillings? Where did you find them, in the gutter? After every thing I have done for you you repay me with gutter trash. And this! What is this!" He held up the rum bottle. Then uncorking the bottle and swallowing the last bit, or letting it run down his face. "Dipping into the rum now? What about the code Jack! Everthing's an equal SHARE!" Another sharp slap across Jack's face made him taste his own blood in his mouth. He cried salt tears like he had the ocean to supply him.

"Please sir, it was that way when I found it, honest it was, sir."

"LIAR, stop your sniveling you lying coward! I didn't raise you, take you in to be my own son to be lied to. I didn't come hear to be lied to by a filthy bastard son of a backwards pirate, so drunk he didn't care whether he lived or died or what sort of wretched offspring he left behind."

Jack wiped his sleeve across his face, resolving he would never cry again, not for anyone, never. "I'm telling you the truth!" He said, in a tone of bravery he didn't feel.

"Why you filthy whoreson. I'll teach you to talk to me like that, a lesson you won't soon forget." And Vincenc brought the bottle down, hard on Jack's head, so that he knew nothing but black...

...Jack opened his eyes to light again, or a manner of light. The sun fought hard for its right to shine through the haze of cannon fire. Burning wood, pieces of the mast, crackled and added to the smoke that strangled you. Jack coughed once and again, nursing a cutlass wound on his right side. He feared what would come next, begged it to be some other memory, anything but this...He couldn't face it.

Jack coughed and rolled onto his side. He was bleeding, not badly, from his side. He blinked, trying focus on the scene around him, knowing what he would see, but forced to look anyway.

He was doubled over on the deck of a simple merchant's ship, he didn't know what it was called. He hadn't taken the time to find out. Jack was just a sixteen year old stowaway. They had been attacked by pirates. Jack and Arabella had gotten separated in the action. Now the ship lay under a cloud of smoke, and the only sounds that were heard what the splitting of burning wood and the groans of the dying.

But where was she. Jack stumbled about the deck, sometimes running sometimes crawling. Always yelling her name, "Bell! Arabella, where are you?!"

All around him were strewn the bodies of simple sailors, they had been ready to see their families, singing songs about their sweet hearts, knowing that they were only days away from port. Now they would never see those families again. Their ship would burn and sink, giving them a sad unseen burial.

Once a man reached out and caught Jacks ankle, he managed to rasp, "Tell Leora..." before his eyes rolled back and he fell back to the deck, dead.

Jack thought he might be sick, blood was running along the boards, and pooling around his feet. Still he yelled with some hope, "Bell! Arabella!"

He caught sight of a white hand out of the corner of his eye. Jack's mind was racing. He knew what he would find even as he ran to see, but still he hoped that it could be different. He rushed to her side.

Arabella's tangled auburn hair fell over her eyes, she shuttered with each laboring breath. Jack gently pushed her hair out of her eyes, those big blue eyes fluttered opened and looked into his.

"Oh..." She murmured. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, her skin was ghostly pale.

"Bell, you're hurt." Jacks eyes fell on her bleeding shoulder, and grabbed a scrap of cloth to stop up the wound.

She sighed heavily, and gasped for air. "Jack, I'm sorry, I should have-"

"Shh." Jack quieted more sharply than he would have liked, trying to look unworried. "You can tell me later, just be quiet now, I'll get you cleaned up. And then we'll..."

"There isn't gonna be a later Jack." She said, drawing his eyes to hers. There were tears glistening there, and a slight smile on her lips. She lifted her and from where it lay tightly pressed against her stomach, it was covered in blood.

Jacks eyes widened at the gaping wound. He knew it was fatal but wouldn't admit it.

"Don't worry Bella, I am sure help...you'll be...something, there must be something." He stammered and thought hard, nothing came but the awful realization. She is going die Jack, and there is nothing you can do about it.

All his life Jack had had a back up plan. He could always negotiate, there was always a plan B. Yet hear he knelt, over the form of his trembling friend, her bloody hand held tightly in his. Helpless.

Arabella reached up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Tenderly laying her hand on his.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Don't say that. It's my fault...I..." He bowed his head. Jack's eyes burned with unshed tears. Arabella smiled the best that she could, her fingers were cold.

"Jack..." He held her hand tightly as if he could keep her there by sheer will.

"I...I love you Bell." He whispered, and bent down and kissed her cold lips. She closed her eyes for a long time, so long he thought she was gone.

"Bell?"

She opened her eyes for the last time, and touched his face with a blood stained hand.

"I love you..." Were her last words, and she died.

Jack looked into her staring eyes for a long time, not hearing the yelling from the navy ship, come to search for survivors.

A man grabbed him by the shoulders, "Come." He said. But Jack just knelt there unseeing, unhearing. "Son, come! The ship is sinking around us." Jack was dragged away by the arm, but as long as he could he kept Arabella's body in sight. His first love, and last. He promised himself.  
Elizabeth woke in the night sobbing uncontrollably, unable to push the image from her mind.

Will rushed in, "What is it?"

"Tia, find Tia! I have to speak to her now!"

Norrington watched Beckett pace like a caged tiger. The short yet diminutive man held the heart of Davvy Jones in a burlap sack; he swung it like a pendulum.

Every few moments the agent of the East India Trading Company would look over the side as if he might see the Kraken closing in on them. The Dutchman could be anywhere, Norrington had seen it rise out of the see like a laviathen. He couldn't help but laugh at the little man's tension. Like his looking over the side cold do anything if Jones actually came.

Norrington thought of the Black Pearl, that was were Jones thought the Heart was, he must have guessed that Sparrow had taken it. If that was the case the motley crew of the Pearl and their half crazed Captain had hardly a stood a chance of escape. That would mean Elizabeth was dead. What that his fault?

At that point Norrington had an idea. He thought back to all the ghost stories he had ever heard about Jones and his crew. What had been the most often repeated line? The mantra of the storytellers? Davvy Jones was the sea.

Norrington walked briskly down the steps toward Beckett.

"Look, give it here." He held out his hand for the bag.

Cutler gave him a piercing look, not trusting this man with his dog, none the less his future.

"You want to find Davvy Jones? I can do it for you, but I need the Heart." Beckett waited a moment longer, weighing the odds. He thought to himself and Norrington could hardly take it and run, not one the open ocean. Grudgingly he forfieted the Heart.

Norrington didn't take a moment to explain his actions, he took the sack in hand and grabbed up a bit of sturdy rope. He tighed the rope tightly to the mouth of the sack, and before Cutler could protest or try to stop him, he threw the Heart overboard.  
Davvy Jones clutched at his chest. This was the final curtain call, he thought to himself, someone had finally done the deed.

But yet, he didn't die. The heart had not been stabbed. It was in the ocean. And he knew exactly where.

He moved as fast as he was able, with his peg leg leaving heavy indentations in the planks beneath it, out of the cabin. He reached the open sea air, a storm raging around them, brewed by the sadness of his song.

"Helmsman, we have a heading-a!" He bellowed at the top of his voice.

Cutler stared into the water as if it would disappear if he lost sight of it. "You shouldn't have done that!" He said almost yelling, but not quite lossing his calm.

Norrington rolled his eyes. "You wanted to deal with Davvy Jones. If he doesn't know where the Heart is he won't come for it." James drew the sack out of the water and tossed it at Beckett carelessly.

"And what did your little stunt do to further our cause?" Sneered Lord Beckett, holding the dripping bag at arms length with disgust.

"The captain of the Flying Dutchman IS the sea, and he knows all that is in it. Therefore, if the Heart is in the sea, he will know where." The Commodore stared into the sea.

"We must wait then?" He seemed to be understanding.

"Wait and watch."

Elizabeth couldn't help but shiver as Dalma finished an explanation. She hugged her knees close. Her eyes still stung from crying.

"So that's it then? That is the secret tragic adventure of the infamous Jack Sparrow. He fell in love with a girl...Then she died in his arms."

Tia shook her head sadly, "Oh, Dat is bad. By fa' one of Jack Sparrow worst memories. He 'asn't got much time left."

"Tell me, what will happen if we don't get there in time?" Elizabeth could barely stand the thought. She had lost Jack once, She didn't think she could do it again.

"Him will drift into emptiness, loosing da last of himself till him is Jack Sparrow no more. Then he be nofin but a gyst hauntin da darkened halls and cursed tear chamba of Davvy Jones' Locka. A fate wors' dan death, and not eban you will be able to fin' him." Tia seemed deeply effected by her own words, no more effected than Elizabeth, who thought of the visons of tear filled pools that filtered into her mind.

"But what have I to do with it? Why can I feel his pain? Why can I hear his thoughts in my head?" Even then she seemed to feel the dark dispair he felt, and the cold of the tears clutching at her hands and legs.

"You are our guide to him. Wifout you we will not be able to find him on dem distant shores At Worlds End. You loved him, yes?" Tia's question was so direct and unexpected that Elizabeth could only look at her and stammer out.

"What, no! I love Will." Like a reflex. Tia shrugged like that was immaterial to her question.

"It matters not. When him died you was boun' to him and him to you. So now you feel a part of him pain." It was very late, or very early in the morning. Elizabeth rubbed her tired eyes, not quite ready to sleep. For fear that she might be sucked into another of the steadily worsening memories and dreams.

"How far are we from him?"

"Hard to say, two days me thinks. Da border to Worlds End, changes." Elizabeth didn't know how that Jack would last that long.

"And what happens to me then? When he...will I die?" Elizabeth didn't ask the question that she most wanted to. The question that she had called for Tia just to ask. Is it true that Jack can't love anymore? But she couldn't bring herself to speak the words out loud, not to Tia. It was hard enough having he question lurking about in her mind.

"Yur likely to feel da loss, but it will not kill you." Tia seemed tired herself, she told Elizabeth that she should try to rest if she could. As she left she found Will listening at the door, with a grim expression on his face.

"Why don' you go speak ta her yurself?" Tia asked him. She showed him the door and then nearly pushed him in.

Elizabeth looked up, and then looked up again, when he came in the room, "I have to tell you something now Will, before anything can interrupt us again."

Will was in a foul mood, "Listen, I know, I saw you."

Elizabeth frowned at him, "You don't know anything, Will! God, you never listen!"

"Don't start it! Just don't! You can't possibly understand what it feels like to see your fiance with..." He paused and looked at the ground, his hands on his hips.

"Well then why didn't you say something? You love me so much? Well then why don't we tell eachother the truth." Will's eyes flashed.

"You are the one at fault here, not me!"

"Oh REALLY! Well tell me, what have I done?" Elizabeth growled.

"The word UNFAITHFUL comes to mind!" He yelled.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, white hot anger and resentment welling up inside her. "GET OUT!" She yelled, so that the whole ship could hear. She grapped the nearest object at hand, it happened to be a book of charts that Tia had left, and hurled it at him. It his the wall just next to his head.

He left the room like a raging bull, stomping down the deck a ways and then throwing his sword, burying it in a nearby barrel or rum. The crew looked at him agast, as if to ask what devil could possess a man to attack an innocent barrel of the blessed nector? Gibbs uncorked his flask and held it beneath the trickling liquid, with a look of mixed tenderness and glee. Will left without apology and found a quiet place on the ship, and shut himself in to think.

Elizabeth was more angry with Will than she had ever been in her life. She paced he small room over and over, until she feared the floor might colapse beneath her, and still she paced talking to herself all the while.

"Men! Oh, if he had only listened to me he would have understood. But no, Will Turner knows it all doesn't he! Why didn't he just listen?" She finally fell exhausted onto the bed.

Dreams or no dreams, she had to sleep. Her last thoughts where, "I hope Will will forgive me...I wonder if Jack can hear MY thoughts?"

Cutler Beckett jumped back from the railing, as the jaws of the Fly Dutchman emerged from the waves. He had the bag full of Heart back in hand and he clutched it like a life line.

Norrington watched wide eyed, feeling the sensation of of somthing dangerous breathing down his neck. "Mercer," He said to the scarred man standing at his shoulder. "Give me your knife."

He felt the cold handle heavy in his hand, and stepped behind Beckett, hiding it behind his back.

They could see the crew of the Dutchman milling about. Strange and disfigured men, though hardly men, moved fast like they could feel a whip at their backs. All rushing to do their master's bidding. All, that is, but one man with a stare like icy sea water reached across the closing distance between the two ships.

The crew of the EITC ship, called the Crown Jewel, conversely stood ever still and looked back onto the enemy ship, all feeling the same set of eyes stare into theirs, and shivering. Cutler's was the only voice that dared the break the crypt like silence.

"What is your plan now Commodore?" He asked, calmly flustered by the unearthly sight.

"I am just a sailor mi'lord." Norrington answered him in a subservient tone, "This is your master plan." Beckett nodded.

He held the heart of Davvy Jones high in the air, or at least as high as he could, and shouted. "Let the negotiations commence!" A murmer rustled through the gathered crew.

"Captain Jones, I hold in this sack something that you want very badly. Even more, I imagine, you wish that it should remain unharmed. I have summoned you," Cutler liked the sound of that word, summoned, it made him sound in charge. "to negotiate it's continued safty."

There was a long resounding silence like the calm before a storm, even the wind and waves seem to hold their collective breaths and wait. Lord Cutler Beckett, however, did not.

"Captain Jo-" He started to shout over the distance, when there was a flash of color and dark, and in a moment before him stood the great Davvy Jones, where there had been no Joneses before. His tentacle beard writhed like a nest of vipers and he puffed on a pipe that managed to look like it too was glaring sevierely at Beckett with one burning eye.

The hair on the back of Norrington's neck stood up on end. His knuckles turned white as he clutched the handle of Mercer's knife, just in case.

Jones took his pipe out of his mouth and blew a smoke ring into Beckett's face. "Who are you?"

Cutler didn't look intimidated, and held his head as high as his height would allow. "I am Lord Cutler Beckett, or the East India Trading Company, and I am the one that holds your heart in his hand."

"Is that so." There was another black flash, and all around them there were demonic fiends, like fish and men. Their blades held out to slice the throat of each man standing on deck. Davvy laughed, grinning slimily. "Oh I very much doubt it will do you much good-a."

Norrington saw his opportunity and didn't waste it. He snatched the bag away from Beckett again and pressed the knife sharply against it. Davvy's tentacled hand went to his chest. His pirate crew closed and then stopped, wondering what they should do next, staring dumbly at their captain staring dumbly at Norrington staring fiercely back.

"What are your demands-a?" He asked, his eyes not leaving the Heart.

Beckett smiled wickedly, looking at the seen before him and thinking that this had the smell of victory about it.


	3. Chapters 5&6

(Chapter Five)  
Without A Kiss

Jack opened his eyes, without actual having closed them to begin with. He opened them to the tear chamber, and slowly turned and look about him at all the dark passages that led to one or another of his blackest fears and memories. Elizabeth fell into a fitful sleep, drifting in and out of that place just below consciousness for a long time until she finally slipped into a dream.

She dreamed of a black room, and on the floor there were tears. And all around her there were black halls that stretched of into nothingness.

She walked upon the water, so that she felt only the impression of cold on her feet. An she looked down and watched the water ripple away from her in growing circles of silvery black. She didn't look up until she heard a voice. Jack started when he saw her, thinking, at first, that it was some trick of the light. But what light was there to trick him. Her sandy blond hair fell down over her face as she looked down into the pool beneath her. She walked on top of the tears.

"Elizabeth?" He called, not sure whether to trust this illusion or fear it as he rightfully should. He knew the face and the name, but he couldn't remember how.

She looked up fast, and their eyes met and lingered on eachother for a long time. Elizabeth realized she was dreaming. She tried to stop walking, to see if she could, and she did. Nothing their breathing was heard in the still.

"Jack. You came back." Meaning he had come back to her dreams, from which he himself had been absent for some time. Jack didn't dare to say anything, or move. He had half a mind to hold his breath, for fear of breaking the spell. She might dissapear if he did that.

This seemed familiar, had he been here before? He didn't remember meeting her this way.

She stepped closer and closer until the were standing face to face. So close that Jack thought that he could see something glisten in her eyes. Elizabeth didn't dare to question the moment. She closed her eyes. It was so real. It was almost like he was there.

She leaned forward, as if to kiss him. Jack knew it was all so familiar, but he couldn't remember...were had he seen this before. How did he know this girl? They were so close, tantilizingly close. That moment lasted, for and eternity they hovered a mere inch away form one another. Such a real dream.

Elizabeth's eye flutted opened, she suddenly seemed to realize what she was doing. She pushed away and backed up several steps. What was she thinking?

She spoke, no, yelled. "Stop, I hate you! I'm not sorry, I'm not. Stay out of my head." Jack didn't know when it started, but he knew when it stopped. He seemed to open his eyes, again without closing them. In his ears rang the beep as the shackle closed around his wrist. "...I'm not sorry..." she said.

He did remember this, this was his death. This was the same Elizabeth he had saved one day in Port Royal. She had left him to die, and now she was doing it again. He felt everything he had that day, when the Kraken had attacked. But every thought and feeling was more accutely painful. Every point of her betrayal was so blatantly clear. He watched her turn around and run, again he stood on the Pearl, and simotainiously he was still in the tear chamber with the cold waters wrapper around him and watching her run away from him. Without a kiss.

Jack fell to his knee's utterly finished. He breathed deeply, the scent of sadness smelled vaguely of lavender and white roses, he thought. Then he let himself start to fade. Tired of fighting.

Elizabeth awoke the next morning with a heavy emptiness hanging around her Heart. She never told Tia about her dream.

Elizabeth stepped on deck to find that the crew had let sleep through all the excitement.

Tia had a broad grin on her face. When she saw Elizabeth she asked. "How are ya feelin?"

"Terrible." She answered.

"Oh good, good." Tia nodded not really paying attention. The whole crew had gathered at the bow of the Edge Racer to watch.

Tia was wearing a slightly different style of dress. Elizabeth took special notice, having assumed that Tia had only one dress and that it was made up of hundreds of other dresses that had passed on. This dress had longer sleeves, and was the cooler of impish moss underwater, or at least as far as she could tell. There was a hood falling down her back to end in a sharp point. It looked very old, but ageless as well like Tia Dalma was ageless.

In the path of the ship there lay a line of fog, like a white chalk mark on the water's surface. But it was growing quickly, much faster than the Edge racer was moving. It seemed to be approaching them.

Tia Dalma held up her arms, fingers splayed, and began to murmur in the back of her throat.

The men watched the water fixedly, as the fog came closer and closer and grew as it came. Gibbs looked wary, unhappy, and half sick. He mumbled to himself, or to his flask which he was holding tightly very close to his mouth, because the crew wouldn't listen to his nay saying anymore. Having seen for themselves what benefits having a witch around can bring. Not to mention that she can provide you with a ship and a moments notice out of thin air.

Gibbs said, "I have heard stories about the edge of the world, where horrible monsters are said to lurk, and the spirits of the dead come and speak to the living."

Raggetti gave him a one eyed look, slightly worried. Pintel sneered. "Are you afeared of spiritses, you know, of the passed on?" Raggetti asked his constant comrade, trying to frame it as a rhetorical question.

"NO!" Pintel answered with certainty. Then less certain, "Why, are you?"

"'Course not. But it's a shame it is, awful shame for them what is, going into the place an' all." Pintel nodded agreement and they both unconsciously took a step nearer Gibbs, as if he might be a living ward against the undead.

Tia's mumbled chant became louder, sounding more and more like the sea all the time. And as her voice raised so did her arms, until her fingers pointed directly into the sky.

The Fog in enveloped the ship with a disconcerting slickness, like liquid smoke wrapping itself about their legs and bodies like a living thing. The crew watched with great anxiety, half feeling that they should have paid better attention to Gibbs. Gibbs was feeling that he wished he had more rum. The entire crew was silent listening, even the water was silent, not even the splash of the waves interrupted Tia's incantation.

The eerie tranquility of the moment was broken by a shout from the head of the boat, "THE SHIP'S SINKEN!"

Tia Dalma fell silent.

Every member of the crew that was able ran to the side to see what was happening. What the saw was the water creeping its way up this side of the boat, fast. A chorus of , "My God!." And ,"He's right, its sinken!" started spreading through the ranks, until the murmurs became shouts of panic.

Tia remained quiet. She pulled the hood over her head and stood there, darkly watching the fog spiraling around them. Or perhaps she wasn't there at all.

Elizabeth came closer to her, unable to see through the shadow of her cloak., "What's happening?" She dared to ask.

"We aren't sinken, da water is risin."

Elizabeth too ran to the sides of the ship, and watched the water coming up fast. Will came and stood near too her, forgetting their fight in the tension. Elizabeth sensed him standing there without looking, and told him what Tia had said.

"Rising or sinking, we drown just the same." Will and Elizabeth caught hold of each others hand unconsciously.

The water crept up the most extreme edge of the ship and continued to rise. Instead of pouring in and sweeping them away, the water remained like a solid wall that continued its' freakish dance skyward. With every inch of rising water, the sinking feeling in Elizabeth's stomached deepened. She felt faint and almost fell back onto Will.

There was one collective gasp, and then the whole world began to spin. The water whipped around them in a whirlpool, the ship began to circle so fast that the crew has pushed out towards the railing, almost falling. There were yells from the unfortunates cast from the ship, their only crime was standing too close to the edge.

Elizabeth too flew forward, stopped painfully by the railing and Will's hand. Will held fast to a rope. All the while Tia seemed nailed to her spot in the bow.

The water was rising all the while like a rearing beast, higher and higher blotting out the sun in its zeal.

Where every they were going, they were I getting closer. Every moment they were nearer, Elizabeth felt her agony worsen. She couldn't remember feeling this weak in her life. It was all Will could do to hold on to her.

When the black finally surrounded them, and the yells of the crew became deafening, the ship finally…stopped.

A slightly less blue see stretched out in every direction, thinly veiled with the writhing mist. The ship was still, the sea was silent, and they moved along steadily without any wind in their sails. Tia's shoulders slumped, "We have descended." She said.

The crew wasn't sure what to think. Every thing looked a bit faded, but much the same. Their whole ordeal could have been a bad dream for as much of a mark it had left upon the world.

Elizabeth believed her. She felt like she might die. The best she could do was to sit on the deck and wait for every to stop spinning.

They sailed around for hours unable to decide where to go from here, none of the navigation equipment was working. All the compasses were acting strangely. Even Tia Dalma didn't seem to have the power to lead them to their next destination.

Will had found employment as a lookout, leaving Elizabeth to sit alone, leaning against the mass with ample opportunity to pull Jack's own compass from her belt.

She hadn't opened the thing since the encounter with the Kraken. She had the strangest suspicion that it would work when all other compasses failed, but she loathed to see where it pointed. It popped open with a slight click, and the arrow began its awkward spinning dance like a dervish. She watched it for a long time, and then looked away almost afraid to see but unable to stop herself looking at the face of the compass yet again.

It did its dizzying jumpy gymnastics with direction for so long Elizabeth thought that it would no longer work for her. But after several more seconds of watching, not bringing herself to close the compass and have done with it the arrow stopped and steadily pointed to a spot on the encircling horizon.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, but resolved to show it to Tia Dalma. Tia was standing at the helm, not steering the boat, but just looking at the helm as if she knew what she needed to do she just didn't know how to do it.

She seemed a bit annoyed to be interrupted. "Wad you need Desturbin me?" She asked. Elizabeth proffered the compass.

She gasped delighted, "So dis is were my compass went to. Jack, him give it to you eh?" Elizabeth was uncomfortable under Tia's smiling gaze and the implication therein.

"I'm more or less holding it for him. Is this our heading or isn't it?" She held the compass a little bit closer to Tia's nose.

"No betta one been offered, and be compass don't lie." The voodoo priestess crowed, and without anymore talk they headed off in a new direction, Tia at the wheel

(Chapter Six)

And his eyes

Davy's lips made a popping noise while he thought over the proposition, knowing all that he had no real choice in the matter.

"You want me to attack pirate vessels?" He asked finally, cutting the whole thing down to seven words. And it turned his stomach to say them.

"My dear Captain, you aren't seeing the big picture I don't think. I don't need YOU, my extraordinary friend, for a simple task like dispatching riffraff, doing the navy's job for them." Cutler Beckett gave Norrington a slightly accusing glace, the man now holding the Heart of Davy Jones, and a sharp and wicked looking knife as casually as if he was holding a buttercup. "My needs are much more concentrated, even more unusual, a lot better adapted to your…unique talents.

"What is it that you want then?" Jones puffed on his pipe darkly.

"In the simplest way I can say it, I want you to turn the sea against them. Make it a prison not a path to freedom. Hound them with storms and sorrow and misery. That is your expertise isn't it? Someone who can create a place like the locker must no something of the anguish of the soul." Norrington shifted as he watched the two men stare each other down, and despite the great differences between them, he still had a hard time telling of form of darkness from the other. They were different men that cast the same shadow. "That is what I want form you, I want you to turn their love into an enemy that will haunt them should they dare to set foot on their ships, and when you have done that you will, I promise, have your most treasured item returned to you, none the worse."

Davy Jones looked at the sack in Norrington's hands. He could feel the beat of it in his chest still, and he hated being so near to it, but alas he could not live without it. And if there was no Captain, there would be no one to care for the sea..

Jones reached out a tentacle hand and grabbed Beckett's. "Agreed-a" He was gone. Leaving Norrington to laugh at the awful expression on Lord Becketts face.

The island, not even Tia knew its name, was shrouded in fog. Heavy fog like a sheet of white that was even thinker and darker than the one on the boat, they couldn't even see their feet.

Will went to shore with some other members of the crew. Pintel and Raggetti stayed behind. Barbossa came as did Tia Dalma and Gibbs, which surprised everyone. But he said, "I doubt the Capin' would ever forgive me if I wasn't there."

Elizabeth came but she didn't want to. She felt more and more ill by the moment, she just knew that she would die of this ailment. But she had to come because she was the "Guide". That meant that the more pain she was in the closer they were. She hated it.

Under their feet they felt fine sand that they sank into, the only features of the island that could be seen were forlorn black barked trees that drooped in the damp and seemed as depressed as everyone else on the island.

Theirs wasn't the usual search party, no one was shouting Jack's name, and no one suggested that they should slit up to cover more ground. They all followed Elizabeth, and Tia stood really near her asking her where they needed to go next.

In truth Elizabeth didn't know. She hadn't heard any of Jacks thoughts for the longest time, and she couldn't say when the last time she had heard a gun shot, or tell you when she had last felt the unpleasant sensation of a hand on her skin. All such things, it seemed, and vanished after her dream, all she felt now was emptiness. So the best she could manage was to walk in whatever direction she least wanted to. The crew didn't seem to mind.

She had once tried to use the compass, even though Will could see her, but it did no good. It too had abandoned reason in this place , it just spun in a steady circle.

With a heavy step, and a heavy heart, she walking forward one…two…three more steps.

Then Will heard her take in a sharp breath. She stopped so suddenly that Tia almost walked into her.

Elizabeth's eyes went wide as she stared into the empty air. Then she collapsed into the fog yelling, "No! No, no, it can't! He can't! …not now…."

Will was at her side in a moment, old dependable Will. There in a moment, like always, even after the fight they had had.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, but she was inconsolable. She gasped and sobbed, and put her head into his shoulder and sobbed some more. For her it had been like a huge weight was lifted from her heart, it was at once the most wonderful and awful moment of her life.

"The connection…" She said, the sob muffled in Will's shoulder. "It's gone."

Tia knelt by her side, "It be just gone, broken?" Elizabeth couldn't even nod a reply, but Tia knew.

"Gid back everyone," she said to the small crowd that had formed. She waved her hand over a spot of fog, just like all the rest and it began to fad and dissolve until they could see a circle of silver white sand…and lying there, dead or asleep (it was impossible to tell) was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Jack woke surrounded by strangers. There were five of them all together. A dark skinned woman stood over him with her hand on his shoulder, she had black teeth…God knew why, and she had an air of magic about her that was intriguing and frightening.

A taller, older man stood looking almost disappointed, with an apple in his hand and a monkey on his shoulder. His was a fiendish face, and Jack, though he didn't remember his own name, knew that there was, had been, or would be bad blood between the two of him. He knew that with certainty.

There was also a gray whiskered man, with a grin on his face and a flask to his lips which Jack very much hoped was rum…he liked rum didn't he?

Then there was a boy, with longish dark hair and an overly innocent expression. His expression was dark…he knew Jack form somewhere. That was obvious…

Jack was interrupted in his examination by the Tia, "Jack?" she said.

Oh yes, Jack thought, that was my name wasn't it? He couldn't think of anything to say, it wasn't really a question. He went back to looking at the others.

The severe looking boy, with a definite eunuch look about him now that Jack thought about it, had is arm around a young woman. She had caramel colored hair that fell loose over her shoulders and tear stained cheeks and large soft eyes that were looking into his. Elizabeth was her name. He knew her…even more then that he remember her…

And this…this was Tia Dalma an old…uh…friend of his. That rock face over there was Barbossa. What the Hell was he doing here? There was good old Joshamee Gibbs. The eunuch was William Turner of course, a fine eunuch, he supposed, if it came to that. And then there was Elizabeth, had he mentioned that already?

Jack remembered everything very fast after that, all the details weren't clear, but he remembered their faces and that they were important. Tia and Gibbs helped him to his feet, he wobbled a bit, but no more than usual so that was alright. His eyes kept drifting back to Elizabeth, who kept looking away whenever he chanced to look her way. He remembered everything about her…how he wished he didn't

But there was something else too. Not just was she the root of everything that was happening but he could hear her.

He could hear her and she wasn't speaking. Somehow in his mind he heard her thoughts.

_He is back, thank God…Oh, dammit he's back. He looks the same as he ever did. The same drunken stagger…ironical expression like you are part of his private joke…And his eyes…_

When they got to the Racer, it wasn't there. The Ship the Edge Racer wasn't there, but in its stead was the Pearl, black and foreboding and over all a gorgeous sight. When Will saw it he cracked the first smile he had in days.

"Where is the Edge Racer?" Elizabeth and Gibbs asked in unison.

"She were only made to find us here, her purpose be done." This didn't make any sense to them, but seemed to make perfect senses to Jack and Dalma, so without leaving extra time for questioning they ran up the gang plank and Jack, his old self before he knew it started yelling for the crew to do their jobs. Make ready to sail.

Elizabeth jumped in and helped where ever she could, but she was never given a direct order, in fact, Jack took all pains to avoid her. Will too was despondent, and she was left alone again. Only Tia took any notice of her, she didn't say anything.

The sails were unfurled and full of a unfelt wind, and thought the sea itself was uncharacteristically grey the crew found join in the basic joys of sailing.

There was general excitement that night. They opened up the rum cellar, an impossible task without Jack and his keys, an when a calm had settled about the crew they gathered around Jack and he began to tell stories of the afterlife.

He had just begun tell of his experience of pole-vaulting over the river Styx to avoid the toll, when Raggetti asked him, "What was it like to die? Was there a white light or sumfin?" Elizabeth lurked comfortably in the shadows listening to Jacks account of events and half laughing. She noticed he never mentioned gun shots, saber wounds, or the auburn locks of the dying woman he loved. However, something in his voice as he answered made her lean forward to listen.

"When you die you fall for a long time, you fall so long that you don't think you will ever stop. Then you do, and it's like hitting cold sea water. You hold your breath think to yourself that you will never see sunlight again…and then you…um…" Jack cleared his throat, this wasn't the story he had meant to tell. He tried to find his way back into the tale about Charon and the river Styx but it just didn't fit anymore.

Finding that there was nothing more to listen to tonight, and Gibbs rather disheartened at having not collected another legend of Jack Sparrow, the crew crept off to other activities. Leaving Jack staring into his now empty bottle of rum, wondering if it was worth the effort to get up and get another one, or if he would pass our on the way.

Elizabeth slipped out of the shadows, toward him. "Oh Elizabeth," He said talking to her finally, and not exactly enjoying it, "Would you mind grabbing me that bottle there…no not that one the full one…there you go." She brought him the bottle and watched him drink a portion with distaste.

She sat cross-legged on the deck and looked up at him. He was looking into the lantern light as if it had insulted him, planning their next move.

"Where do we go from here Jack?" She asked, not actually knowing if the choice was his or not.

He squinted at her with his heavily kohled chocolate brown eyes and said, "We aren't free yet, love." Just the way he had said it before, not a fortnight ago.

The words hurt Elizabeth, not because of what they meant, but because of what the eluded to, meaning to remind her and doing so. She felt a sharp pang of guilt, and Jack felt her feel it and it gave him a sort of grim pleasure to know that it hurt her to think about it.

"Goodnight, darling" he nodded to her, and sauntered off, though it was more of a mixed stagger and stumble, leaving Elizabeth alone and even more unhappy than before.

Gibbs was unhappy, and only a little bit drunk which always made him cranky, he new that something uncouth had gone on, on this ship. None of the crew mates seemed to have noticed the change, but they all acknowledged that had happened since they had let down the anchor on the misted island.

He wondered around the deck haplessly trying to find something wrong with it. He knew there had to be something, only a few hours ago this had been the gleaming Edge Racer. A ship that was made of a light almost white would, accented with gold paint. Its sails had been white as a cloud and its decks had been cleaner than any Gibbs had seen or scrubbed.

Now he was on the Pearl again, all black and dark. That was a bad omen if he had ever seen one. He found nothing on the deck, everything, every part of the Black Pearl was just like new.

He went into the head room, and held up his lantern to look around, the room was empty and dark. He circled around it slowly, suspicion written all over his face, but no one was there to read it.

"Oh, mother's love! He said as he watched a portion of the ship change before his very eyes. There in the corner of the room was a bear stop of wall, white and gold gleaming under the candle light. But all along the edges the last spot of the Racer were being eroded, like the Black Pearl lay beneath the whole time.

"Holy mother of Go-"

"Is dere a problem, Masta Gibbs." Joshamee jumped two feet of the ground, and spun around to look for the source of the disembodied voice.

Tia Dalma sat reclining in the captain's chair, look either wary or amused.

"What witchery are you pulling here? What kind of ship is this?" She cocked her head and examined the question.

"Dis is da Black Pearl."

"Yes? Well what about that?" He pointed at the spot of gold paint that had all but gone.

"You shor you wan me to tell you? You seem a bit nervous." She gave Gibbs a side long look.

"Aye."

"Da Edge Racer was just a vessel to carry us hear. I created it to bring us here and then to replace the Pearl in the locker. The ship that was de Edge Racer," She pointed at the wall, "has finished its exchange with the Pearl. Now it is there, and the Pearl is here."

"Aye…uh…I don't understand, why did the Pearl need replacing? We could have used the two ships." Gibbs squinted in the near dark.

Tia shifted in her seat, she was no longer looking at Joshamee, she seemed to be looking through him. "You cannot take anything from the Locker without leaving something behind." Tia's face took on a pained expression. How could she do this, how could do this to Jack? She sighed.

Gibbs looked at her, looked at her hard, he skimmed the surface of understanding. This meant something, but he couldn't quite connect it.

"You should go to bed," And Tia stood and left the room.

Gibbs didn't sleep for a long time. Rolled all these thoughts all around in his head, and tried to get the thought that this was witch ship out of his mind.

The sea was calm the next day, but was always calm here. But that wasn't the reason Will stood at the bow of the ship staring into the distance with some of the first real excitement he had felt I a long time. There is was, just before them, light struck the water, beyond the cloud cover. That was the end of their long journey through the grey waters of World's End.

Will yelled for some one to look and see, the first one to appear at his side was Elizabeth. She was happy to find some alone time with Will, she had apologies to make, and confessions and she just wanted to be near him right now.

"Look," He told he, almost as happy to finally see her smiling again as she was to see him, "We are almost out of this nightmare."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to start a long speech that she had been planning for some time now when she smelled the strong odor of rum and heard the uneven clomp of boots. Jack appeared at her shoulder and looked out at the sea. He looked grim, in fact Elizabeth had never seen him so out of spirits since she had burned the rum. It wasn't like him at all.

"We are reaching the end of our torment." Will said to him, partially meaning that the closer they got to the Flying Dutchman the sooner they would never have to deal with Jack again.

"No," Jack said, not taking his eyes from the horizon, he distinctly distrusted the inviting sight of open sea. Was it just a side effect from so long in the Locker?

He marched away from the bow of the Pearl, straight for the helm where Tia had taken up permanent residence. Jack moved her out of the way gingerly, returning her questioning stare.

"What dress is that then?" He asked, as he laid his hand on the wheel. It felt awkward and unusual to his touch, the Pearl had never seemed this way before. Still he trifled with trivialities, as he turned the helm hard and began to turn the ship fully around.

"Wad are you doing?" She asked, trying to take the wheel back. Elizabeth and Will, along with a few other crew members had gathered to see what was going on.

"What ARE you doing?" Elizabeth repeated, "We are almost out, we are so close we can't turn back now!"

Jack had the unpleasant and difficult task of not creating a panic. He didn't answer anybodies questions he just continued to steer them away from the light and talk on his irrational subject.

"It doesn't suit you at all, you know. What every happened to the crimson dress you had? It brought out your eyes." There was a puzzled silence. Will couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the wheel himself and tried to pull it away from Jack.

"Jack if you needs must go completely mad do so on the other end of the ship." William told him, not entirely sure whether he was serious or not.

"You will want to be giving the wheel back mate, NOW." Jack voice became low and dangerous. His eyes had a sharp edged look to them, that they got whenever things had become the most desperate, and he was forced into action.

"William, let go of da wheel." Tia Dalma said, realizing what was happening.

"Why? We are so close." Will pulled at the wheel again and tried to turn it.

Then the ship shuddered suddenly, and a wave sprung up from the silent sea and splashed against the ship violently.

"Oh, bugger." Jack had begun to run down to the lower deck even before he answered. He yanked his thumb out behind him toward the sunlit horizon, "That is why! Ready the cannons!"

When they got to the Racer, it wasn't there. The Ship the Edge Racer wasn't there, but in it's stead was the Pearl, black and foreboding and over all a gorgeous sight. When Will saw it he cracked the first smile he had in days.

"Where is the Edge Racer?" Elizabeth and Gibbs asked in unison.

"She were only made to find us here, her purpose be done." This didn't make any sense to them, but seemed to make perfect senses to Jack and Dalma, so without leaving extra time for questioning they ran up the gang plank and Jack, his old self before he knew it started yelling for the crew to do their jobs. Make ready to sail.

Elizabeth jumped in and helped where ever she could, but she was never given a direct order, in fact, Jack took all pains to avoid her. Will too was despondent, and she was left alone again. Only Tia took any notice of her, she didn't say anything.

The sails were unfurled and full of a unfelt wind, and thought the sea itself was uncharacteristically grey the crew found join in the basic joys of sailing.

There was general excitement that night. They opened up the rum cellar, an impossible task without Jack and his keys, an when a calm had settled about the crew they gathered around Jack and he began to tell stories of the afterlife.

He had just begun tell of his experience of pole-vaulting over the river Styx to avoid the toll, when Raggetti asked him, "What was it like to die? Was there a white light or sumfin?" Elizabeth lurked comfortably in the shadows listening to Jacks account of events and half laughing. She noticed he never mentioned gun shots, saber wounds, or the auburn locks of the dying woman he loved. However, something in his voice as he answered made her lean forward to listen.

"When you die you fall for a long time, you fall so long that you don't think you will ever stop. Then you do, and it's like hitting cold sea water. You hold your breath think to yourself that you will never see sunlight again…and then you…um…" Jack cleared his throat, this wasn't the story he had meant to tell. He tried to find his way back into the tale about Charon and the river Styx but it just didn't fit anymore.

Finding that there was nothing more to listen to tonight, and Gibbs rather disheartened at having not collected another legend of Jack Sparrow, the crew crept off to other activities. Leaving Jack staring into his now empty bottle of rum, wondering if it was worth the effort to get up and get another one, or if he would pass our on the way.

Elizabeth slipped out of the shadows, toward him. "Oh Elizabeth," He said talking to her finally, and not exactly enjoying it, "Would you mind grabbing me that bottle there…no not that one the full one…there you go." She brought him the bottle and watched him drink a portion with distaste.

She sat cross-legged on the deck and looked up at him. He was looking into the lantern light as if it had insulted him, planning their next move.

"Where do we go from here Jack?" She asked, not actually knowing if the choice was his or not.

He squinted at her with his heavily kohled chocolate brown eyes and said, "We aren't free yet, love." Just the way he had said it before, not a fortnight ago.

The word hurt Elizabeth, not because of what they meant, but because of what the eluded to, meaning to remind her and doing so. She felt a sharp pang of guilt, and Jack felt her feel it and it gave him a sort of grim pleasure to know that it hurt her to think about it.

"Goodnight, darling" he nodded to her, and sauntered off, though it was more of a mixed stagger and stumble, leaving Elizabeth alone and even more unhappy than before.

Gibbs was unhappy, and only a little bit drunk which always made him cranky, he knew that something uncouth had gone on, on this ship. None of the crew mates seemed to have noticed the change, but they all acknowledged that had happened since they had let down the anchor on the misted island.

He wondered around the deck haplessly trying to find something wrong with it. He knew there had to be something, only a few hours ago this had been the gleaming Edge Racer. A ship that was made of a light almost white wood, accented with gold paint. Its sails had been white as a cloud and its decks had been cleaner than any Gibbs had seen or scrubbed.

Now he was on the Pearl again, all black and dark. That was a bad omen if he had ever seen one. He found nothing on the deck, everything, every part of the Black Pearl was just like new.

He went into the head room, and held up his lantern to look around; the room was empty and dark. He circled around it slowly, suspicion written all over his face, but no one was there to read it.

"Oh, mother's love!" He said as he watched a portion of the ship change before his very eyes. There in the corner of the room was a bear spot of wall, white and gold gleaming under the candle light. But all along the edges the last spot of the Racer were being eroded, like the Black Pearl lay beneath the whole time.

"Holy mother of Go-"

"Is dere a problem, Masta Gibbs." Joshamee jumped two feet of the ground, and spun around to look for the source of the disembodied voice.

Tia Dalma sat reclining in the captain's chair, look either wary or amused.

"What witchery are you pulling here? What kind of ship is this?" She cocked her head and examined the question.

"Dis is da Black Pearl."

"Yes? Well what about that?" He pointed at the spot of gold paint that had all but gone.

"You shor you wan me to tell you? You seem a bit nervous." She gave Gibbs a side long look.

"Aye."

"Da Edge Racer was just a vessel to carry us hear. I created it to bring us here and then to replace the Pearl in the locker. The ship that was de Edge Racer," She pointed at the wall, "has finished its exchange with the Pearl. Now it is there, and the Pearl is here."

"Aye…uh…I don't understand, why did the Pearl need replacing? We could have used the two ships." Gibbs squinted in the near dark.

Tia shifted in her seat, she was no longer looking at Joshamee, she seemed to be looking through him. "You cannot take anything from the Locker without leaving something behind." Tia's face took on a pained expression. How could she do this, how could do this to Jack? She sighed.

Gibbs looked at her, looked at her hard, he skimmed the surface of understanding. This meant something, but he couldn't quite connect it.

"You should go to bed," And Tia stood and left the room.

Gibbs didn't sleep for a long time. He rolled all these thoughts all around in his head, and tried to get the thought that this was witch ship out of his mind.

The sea was calm the next day, but was always calm here. But that wasn't the reason Will stood at the bow of the ship staring into the distance with some of the first real excitement he had felt I a long time. There is was, just before them, light struck the water, beyond the cloud cover. That was the end of their long journey through the grey waters of World's End.

Will yelled for some one to look and see, the first one to appear at his side was Elizabeth. She was happy to find some alone time with Will, she had apologies to make, and confessions and she just wanted to be near him right now.

"Look," He told he, almost as happy to finally see her smiling again as she was to see him, "We are almost out of this nightmare."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to start a long speech that she had been planning for some time now when she smelled the strong odor of rum and heard the uneven clomp of boots. Jack appeared at her shoulder and looked out at the sea. He looked grim, in fact Elizabeth had never seen him so out of spirits since she had burned the rum. It wasn't like him at all.

"We are reaching the end of our torment." Will said to him, partially meaning that the closer they got to the Flying Dutchman the sooner they would never have to deal with Jack again.

"No," Jack said, not taking his eyes from the horizon, he distinctly distrusted the inviting sight of open sea. Was it just a side effect from so long in the Locker?

He marched away from the bow of the Pearl, straight for the helm where Tia had taken up permanent residence. Jack moved her out of the way gingerly, returning her questioning stare.

"What dress is that then?" He asked, as he laid his hand on the wheel. It felt awkward and unusual to his touch, the Pearl had never seemed this way before. Still he trifled with trivialities, as he turned the helm hard and began to turn the ship fully around.

"Wad are you doing?" She asked, trying to take the wheel back. Elizabeth and Will, along with a few other crew members had gathered to see what was going on.

"What ARE you doing?" Elizabeth repeated, "We are almost out, we are so close we can't turn back now!"

Jack had the unpleasant and difficult task of not creating a panic. He didn't answer anybodies questions he just continued to steer them away from the light and talk on his irrational subject.

"It doesn't suit you at all, you know. What every happened to the crimson dress you had? It brought out your eyes." There was a puzzled silence. Will couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the wheel himself and tried to pull it away from Jack.

"Jack if you needs must go completely mad do so on the other end of the ship." William told him, not entirely sure whether he was serious or not.

"You will want to be giving the wheel back mate, NOW." Jack voice became low and dangerous. His eyes had a sharp edged look to them, that they got whenever things had become the most desperate, and he was forced into action.

"William, let go of da wheel." Tia Dalma said, realizing what was happening.

"Why? We are so close." Will pulled at the wheel again and tried to turn it.

Then the ship shuddered suddenly, and a wave sprung up from the silent sea and splashed against the ship violently.

"Oh, bugger." Jack had begun to run down to the lower deck even before he answered. He yanked his thumb out behind him toward the sunlit horizon, "That is why! Ready the cannons!"

Something emerged out of the water, Jack had known it was there. How no one could guess, and for a while all that Will and Elizabeth could do was watch in awe and fear.

It broke the waters surface with a great splash, It had a serpentine head with great webbed plumes and sharp looking fangs dripping with sea water. It shrieked a high pitched scream and the crew had to cover their ears.

Jacks voice came form below deck, "Faster, your life depends on it." And then he came up again to where Will held the wheel dumbly and pushed him out of the way.

"What are you doing," He whipped the wheel around so fast that they could hear it whoosh through the air.

Will ran, Elizabeth trialing not far behind, to help with the cannons if he could. The beast was swimming now parallel to the ship, its hundred foot long form dipping in and out of the water. "Fire at will!" Jack yelled to his crew, and he was answered with the blasting of the cannons.

Jack looked to Tia for help, there was an understanding between them and she said to him. "Look, dere head for that bit of fog." There was a splotch of white before them, growing fast. "It's the only udder way." And Jack moved the ship toward it, willing it to go just a little faster.

The monster raked its claws across the side of the ship, and the wood split and splintered like mad. The ship rocked and reeled with the shock and the only ones on deck that remained on their feet were Tia and Jack.

The fog was so close to them Jack thought that if he reached out he might be able to take hold of it. Tia was in the stern of the ship yelling out some kind of incantation to help the ship along.

The noise of the beast crescendoed and then everything went eerily silent as the creature dived. Everything happened really slowly then.

The figure head of the Black Pearl disappeared in the fog, the fog that may or may not save them.

At the same time there was an awful crunch as the sea serpent resurfaced behind the ship and smashed a claw clean through the side of the Pearl, three feet above the water line, into the cargo hold.

The progress of the ship slowed incredibly, the monster was holding them back. Everyone that wasn't screaming held their breath, willing the ship to move forward just a few more feet, just a few more inches.

The ship rocked and shook, as the serpent ripped out crates of supplies and barrels of precious water.

The next few seconds ran like hours, the back to the ship crawled imperceptibly forward. The stern of the ship was enveloped in fog, just as the beastie shrieked its most vicious shriek yet. Jack didn't think that they had made it.

But silence cut the monster short, and light flooded into the ship, bright enough to make them squint. The sea was the deepest color of blue and the wind, real wind filled their sails.

They had made it, and the crew shouted and hurrahed their success. All but Jack.

Jack was on edge for most of the rest of the day, he was snappish with the crew, and he wouldn't even look and Will or Elizabeth, they seemed to be always together, because the sight made him slightly sick.

They spent a great deal of time repairing the ship. There was only so much they could do at sea but they did manage to cover the large hole with board and catalogue just how much they had left. They were running dangerously low on drinking water.

Gibbs estimated that they could subsist for approximately four days before they would run out entirely.

Tia was consulted. She through pieces of some poor ex animal onto a table and divined that they were only two days away from a port and that they were somewhere in Asia, even though when they had left they were in the Caribbean. The celebration was her idea.

To keep up moral, and also to make merry the return of their captain she said they should have a feast that night, and open up new barrels of rum, which would also save on water for the time being at least.

The crew liked the idea, and as soon as the sun had set, they put aside their work on the ship and started a rowdy party, as only pirates can.

Tia called Elizabeth into a cabin. She held in her hands a crimson dress, the one that Jack had mentioned, and told her. "Dis is no way to go to a party. Wear dis, it is great for dancing."

Elizabeth eyed the dress suspiciously, she had decided that she hated the things. But this was very pretty, if a little bit worn. And of course there was also Will to consider. Though they had spent most of the day together, out of habit more than anything, he had barely said two words to her that weren't to do with rigging or nails or boards. His coldness was nearly unbearable, but she couldn't bring her self to apologize just yet, not first anyway. It would be nice to turn his head again, and get him to notice her as a woman.

She pretended to protest for a while but finally slipped into the dress and went to the feast. It was a meager feast, consisting of half dried bread with cheese and salt pork. Not to mention lots and lots of rum. When everyone had eaten the rum was poured, and they drank till it was nearly ridiculous. Even Will took a bit, but not Elizabeth. It didn't seem right somehow.

After the food there was dancing, Gibbs pulled out and accordion and Pintel and Raggetti sang old sea going songs very off key.

Elizabeth danced alone mostly, except for once when Marty asked for a dance and she couldn't bring herself to refuse. She spun around and around, laughing and enjoying how this lightweight dress twirled around her like it had been made for it. The whole deck was in uproarious good spirits. Tia Dalma even danced with Barbossa, but the general consensus was that she did it purely so she could tread upon his feet with the hard heels of her shoes.

Will stood in the corner, brooding and planning and trying to stay as angry at Elizabeth as possible. She would break eventually and apologize first. Elizabeth was annoyed with him to an even greater extent. She hated how she couldn't even dance with her future husband because he was just to pig headed.

There was one more thing that was bothering her, the guest of honor was conspicuously absent. So when the stars were fully bright and sharply shining above them, and Pintel and Raggetti started to screech out the thirteen verse of a ballad about a sailor lost as sea, Elizabeth slipped out of the warm circle of candle light and walked along the decks alone.

Tia Dalma was the only one to spot her. She smiled.

She spotted Jack in the starlight, leaning on the railing and looking at the horizon, as if looking at it would bring it closer.

He some how heard Elizabeth creeping along barefoot and looked at her sideways.

"You look stunning in that dress you know Lizzie." He smirked at her, the dress hung tightly to her, showing off her figure. "I always did like that dress."

Elizabeth put her hand on her hips and tried to hide her amusement. "Do remain respectful, Captain Sparrow."

"Hmm…" He stoked his mustache and thought, "Respectful? Never heard of it. That adds to a long list of things I have forgotten, it seems. You could remind me, just step in my cabin…" Elizabeth blushed in the dark, but Jack knew.

"Jack! Speak civilly for God's sake." Elizabeth looked over her shoulder like someone might be watching her.

Jack scoffed, "Civilly. I am lucky to be speaking at all. I have been dead for several days now haven't I?"

Elizabeth became silent and stared at her feet. "Can you forgive me Jack?" She asked without meeting his eyes.

"Are you sorry?" He took the slightest step forward. Seriousness came into his voice.

"I asked you too forgive me."

"Yes, but that's not the same thing." They stood in silence for a while, Elizabeth unable to look up and meet his gaze. Jack unable to read what she was thinking. Then he turned away and closed the door to his cabin quietly behind him.


	4. Chapter 7&8

**(Chapter Seven)**

**Find Yourself or Someone Else**

Jack sat awake in his cabin for a long time with his back the wall, and his boots up and the dresser where he kept his belongings in and orderly heap. He glared out the circular window that let him watch the sea. It was one of those things that he had always loved about the Pearl. Just another of those endless things that made this ship more than a ship.

But now the sight of the blue green waves washing back and forth in the moonlight gave him no pleasure. He had once thought that whenever he was on the sea he was part of something bigger than himself. But now he just felt…nothing. The sight mocked him with it's' presence.

The was a word for this feeling, he knew it. Incomplete. That was the one thing that did a slow dance in his mind like the last line of echoed poetry. Jack Sparrow found himself incomplete. That thing that had once fulfilled him now filled him with despair. It was like staring into the tear chamber all over again, and feeling the emptiness that accompanies the loss of all hope.

Then there was her. That same her that had caused everything to go wrong in his life. That same her that danced to the sound of the waves, with that red dress spinning around her. That one her that was as untamable, and harsh and indefinable as the sea itself was.

Jack seemed to stumble upon it then, like and ill placed barrel in the dark. He thought he knew what he had lost, and it burned him. It hurt him deeply to know what he had lost and not to be able to reclaim it.

He wished then that they had left him dead. That would be better than living this way. With nothing to live for.

Incomplete.

The lights were dowsed finally after the pirates tired of their merry making. They stumbled off to their respective hammocks and cabins, having quite forgotten about the captain who had never shown himself.

Elizabeth didn't forget about him. She let the moon light bathe her skin in its light and the wind whip back her hair for a long time while she stood unmoving at the bow, contemplating what it all meant.

Will too was awake, and he too stood watching, but he watched Elizabeth and his eyes never left her.

She was startled by the foot steps behind her. But it was just Will, constant, reliable, safe Will. Looking even more heroic than usual in his borrowed pirate's attire. He wore high black boots and a very blue coat that he had adopted at some point. He looked very dashing with the moonlight playing over his features.

"May I have a word?" He asked.

"Not before I have had mine." She answered him.

"I have an important question to ask you." He continued on.

"And I would give you the answer now if you would only stop to listen." That edge was coming into her voice again. He gave her a dark look, not angry, just aggravated.

He asked his question without her consent. "Do you have feelings for Jack?"

"No."

"Yet you kissed him, I saw you, why?" Elizabeth had been preparing for this for a long time.

"I killed Jack, Will." Will was caught off guard.

"I don't understand." He told her plainly.

"That monster, the Kraken, it was after him. It was after him and not the ship and I knew that if he came with us we would all die, Will. I…distracted him with the kiss, and shackled him to the mast so he couldn't follow us." Realization was frankly spelled out all over Will's face. Everything was becoming clear.

"And you and Jack…Jack was… I thought you…" Will smiled in spite of himself. It was a grave thing Elizabeth had done, but a weight immeasurable lifted from his shoulders.

"He never meant anything to me. It was always you, Will. And if you can ever forgive me for doing such a terrible thing then…then I want you to know that I love you. Only you. That has never changed, even though I have." Elizabeth was trembling again. What must Will think of her now. She didn't dare look at his face, to see the look of redemption like a condemned man pardoned.

Will took her by the hand. "Elizabeth, can you forgive me for ever doubting you? How could I think that you would ever let me down? I am the one who should be begging forgiveness, not you. I have been such a damned fool." He went down on one knee.

When Elizabeth saw what was happening she froze. She had seen this before. Will had knelt just like that not more than a few months ago, and still she felt like a corset was tightening around her. She couldn't breathe, all she could do was smile and tremble with joy and disbelief.

"Elizabeth Swann, I love you. I have said this to you before but I think you should get a chance to choose again. I have been a perfect fool. When we make it back, and we finally have our lives again…will you marry me still?"

Jack thought long and hard about what he should do next, his eyes never leaving that window that looked out at the moon soaked ocean. He decided finally, somewhere in the small hours of the night that only Tia Dalma, having brought him back, could do anything for him.

He stood stiffly and headed for the door. He opened it onto a scene so touching that he thought he might be sick.

"Oh Will, of course I will, of course. I love you." Will stood up and held he tightly like she was a dream that might slip away in the night.

If ever, sometime on the ocean their engagement had slipped and become void, then that oversight had be amended. There in the privacy of the moonlight Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann were due to be married once more.

No one saw this touching sight but them. And Jack, of course who had butted in uninvited and would at that moment have done anything to be anywhere else than cemented to his spot watching the two of them embrace.

Then there was Tia Dalma who had been watching a long time from the shadows. And nodded solemnly at the sight.

Then there was Barbossa, who was watching Jack watch the two lovers with a look of unveiled horror and anguish, his mind whirring furiously with all these interesting new developments.

Everyone noticed the next morning that Jack had regained some of his Jackness. He spent less of his time lurking, and more of his time simply being a bit off-beat, and the crew was glad to have him back.

He knew the Black Pearl better than anyone alive. He pitched in to help with the repairs, as much as they could do at sea, just like any other member of the crew. And when he wasn't working he carefully guarded the rum cellar, which he noticed was very sparsely populated as of last night.

Only secretly did he agonize over things that he couldn't change. He resolved to resign himself to his new fate, but all it took was a bit of ocean spray against his face or the sight of Elizabeth up in the rigging learning how to trim the sails, to evoke all sorts of emotions he had known he had.

They came to land just when Tia said they would. They landed not too far outside of a simple fishing village called Quanji. The locals were kind to them, as if they had seen their kind often enough before. It probably helped the Jack spoke their language fluently.

The crew was given strict orders to stay out of trouble. The last think they needed now was to run out of town before they could get the Pearl repaired.

They had just enough money and items to barter with to restock the ship with water and previsions. The rum cellar however was running dangerously low.

After a only a few hours, Barbossa disappeared from the face of the earth. He had done with taking orders from Captain Jack Sparrow. He was ready to look for his own way back to Tortuga. As long as he didn't have to be around Jack and the others, he was fine. He got as far as the local pub and was shipwrecked, the latest report was that the former captain was still sitting in the squat Asian bar drinking saki.

Jack was glad to see him gone.

The work on the ship would be finished by the end of the day, and they could set out the following morning.

Jack was alone, wondering about the ship bemoaning that they had less than three bottles of rum left, and then taking another swallow to demonstrate the fact. Will and Elizabeth were in the village, along with the rest of the crew. He did his best not to think about that. Tia Dalma had gone to gather some news if she could find it, and Gibbs had probably joined Barbossa.

Jack had walked in and out of the cellar three times now, and finding that there was no change, he slipped into another room and started rifling through things our of nervous habit. They were Will's things.

Will was traveling with several swords. He had his favorite rapier, a simple Baudelaire, and a cutlass he had gotten hold of in the fight for the Pearl, and never relinquished. Jack set all these aside. What he drew out next was no pocket knife. Will had carefully wrapped it in cloth to protect it. He had brought it with him from Port Royal, unwilling to leave it with Mister Brown, who would surely sell it without thinking twice. It was his masterpiece.

Jack drew out a well weighted saber with a perfect balance. The blade had been painstakingly polished; the handle was inlayed with gold. Jack knew a fair amount of swords. He knew with certainty that this sword was worth more than a pretty penny.

The boy had talent, Jack admitted, but quietly. With this kind of skill he had a future. Even in Port Royal he would have the stability of a trade. In London, who knows, he might even be able to get a commission from a lord. That was the kind of thing that showed promise. The girl certainly seemed to think so.

The blade glinted in the sunlight. Jack got an idea, a rather wicked, but thoroughly Jack sort of idea. Jack carefully replaced the other swords, so that Will would never notice that he had been searched, and left the room. The saber wrapped carefully and tucked under his arm.

It was a pretty little village, terraced so that the residences overlooked the market square and the docks.

Will and Elizabeth walked hand in hand down the main street. Every once in a while something would catch her eye, and Elizabeth would drag Will over too look at something or other. There was a little old woman selling necklaces made of sea shells. Another place sold Asian clothing, and there were numerous shops the sold food of all sorts.

Will spotted a smithy, but Elizabeth saw a stand that sold jade statuettes of dragons and bears that she would rather look at. They went their separate ways.

"I'll meet you back here." Will told her. Elizabeth was still just enjoying the simplicity of this little city, her reconciliation with Will, the sun that was warm but not uncomfortable, and trying not to let that nagging guilt she carried with her get the best of her. She had stopped to examine some trees that she pink cherry blossoms all over the terrace below when she caught sight of a familiar figure, and an attention catching, only slightly faded, red bandana.

Jack was walking briskly down the path above her with a bundle tucked awkwardly under one arm. He eyes widened when she saw what it was. Jack stopped at a shop at the end of the road, where a purveyor of various spirits had set up a temporary tent. Jack laid the sword on the table and began talking avidly to the merchant. The way he moved his hands and the entire attitude of the conversation made Elizabeth realize what Jack was doing. "Oh, you…pirate!" She mumbled to herself. She began walking towards them, ready to take the sword back by force if necessary.

At that moment Will ran up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, saying, "Where have you been? I have been looking for you." She turned around to look at him, he was smiling. She had seen that look before. It was the look that he gave her when he had just created something marvelous at the forge and he just could wait to tell he even though she didn't care.

Elizabeth looked back to where Jack had been, but she stomped her foot in consternation, he was gone along with his smirk. The plump merchant had a smug grin on his face because he knew he had gotten the better deal. And the sword, Will's most precious sword, the one he had told her about for hours until she had wanted to pull out her hair, was gone.

"Hey," Wills smile slipped, "What's wrong?"

Elizabeth told him exactly what was wrong, she was furious. All her faith in Jack was lost totally.

Will's jaw clenched as he listened, so tightly it looked painful. He was quite ready to kill Jack at that moment. When Elizabeth had finished, and was a bit red in the face, Will marched off in the direction of the beach.

"Where are you going?" She called after him.

"It's time for fencing practice. Come on!"

**(Chapter Nine)**

**Define Cheating**

It was a beautiful evening; the sun was setting and painting gorgeous patterns all over the sky. The water gained some dark green/blue color in the light. There in the midst of it all were Elizabeth and Will. Doing the different drills Will had created for them to practice. The Pearl was being loaded with the final supplies, and Jack was still absent.

"No, parry, parry! That's too sloppy! You couldn't do that in a fight."

"Well sorry! We have been practicing this same form for half an hour!" Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Alright, I'm sorry…hey, really. Let us go through form five one more time then we will move one." The both raised their swords. And at the same time Jack started wandering down the beach with a crate in his arms, closely followed by a similarly laden Cotton, Pintel and Raggetti. And trailing behind was Marty, unable to carry a whole crate he had only four bottles of a suspicious amber colored liquid.

Gibbs ran to meet Jack. "You found some rum then, Captain?" Elizabeth and Will continued to practice, but they watched.

"Aye."

"I thought we had come to the end of out resources." She said, "Where did you get it."

"The funds were provided by an unexpected source, love." Jack grinned and fidgeted.

Elizabeth thought she heard Will grind his teeth. They continued. "Stop!" He ordered.

"Listen, you are still over extending on that final thrust."

"We have gone through it a million times! If one thing doesn't go wrong than another will." Elizabeth threw he hands in the air. Will winked at her, she was an excellent actress.

"Perfection is demanded in combat, it only takes one misstep to get you killed." He held up one finger.

"You know mate, the say, 'If the student hasn't learned, the teacher is probably an idiot'." He grinned infuriatingly.

"So you think you can do better, do you?" Will loved it; everything was going directly according to plan.

"I believe it has been demonstrated that I am the better of the two of us." Jack waved on hand in the air, holding the crate with the other arm.

"You cheated, I would have beaten you." This was a soar subject; Jack just loved that.

"Now define cheating…"

"You want to test it now? Set down your plunder and we'll se who's the best." Will brandished his blade.

Elizabeth did a quick double take. This possibly wasn't the best idea. Will would clearly finish Jack in a heartbeat. And then what would he do with him? With him in this state of mind she didn't like to guess.

Jack looked around, almost all of his crew was here, but Dalma and old Barbo. They looked at him questioningly. He couldn't refuse a direct challenge, not in front of all these witnesses.

Jack dumped his crate into the arms of a startled Gibbs and drew his cutlass. "No devious tricks then. Alls on the up and up and fair, savvy?" Will nodded.

"Uh…Will." Elizabeth started in a small voice, her doubts getting the best of her. She had changed her mind. This was a bad idea. But neither of the men were listening to her now. Will had his half grin half sneer on his face. Jack looked at him sideways and set up a strong stance.

"Begin." Will said, and the maelstrom of blows commenced.

Oh, damn! Elizabeth thought, He is going to kill him. Will is really going to kill Jack.

Jack was no push over, nor was he one to take in necessary risks. Jack took several steps back to keep a little air between him and the blade. Will was a superior swordsman, though he should have been after all the time he spent practicing. Just ask Elizabeth how she knew.

Jack was full of little tricks of his own though. Dashing here and there, jumping up on a rocks, taking sweeping strikes at Wills feet.

Will came very close several times to simply cutting Jack down. Elizabeth followed them, not to closely, as they ran down the beach exchanging blows and insults as they went.

"You know mate." Jack ducked Will sword again. "I think you're getting worse." The swords made a ringing clank clank sound. Thrust, parry, lunge, and repeat again. "Still practicing every day are we?"

"Every day!" Will came down hard with an arching blow aimed for Jack's head. Jack blocked it and held him there for a moment.

"And how does your affianced feel about that, eh?" Wills brow furrowed. They continued faster now. Elizabeth saw Will start one of his favorite combinations, a seven move arrangement meant to finish the fight. She always missed the final upper cut, every time.

She started counting moves…5…4…3…2. Jack, she thought, look out for the final blow. Will attacked, but Jack batted it away uncannily, like he knew it was coming. Now she had to worry about her fiancé. He was giving ground fast. Backing away from Jacks attacks, toward a shelving of rocks all covered where piles of the fine sand had blown and accumulated.

It didn't make any sense. Will didn't have to be giving ground. He was easily blocking Jack's various attacks. Elizabeth, thought hard. Will was playing with Jack, he must be, but why.

Elizabeth saw a near importable sweep Will made with his hand behind him. Everyone else missed it. Jack missed it. But Elizabeth saw that split second when Will grabbed up a handful of sand, for a revenge he had been looking forward to since the day ha and Jack had met in his shop.

Elizabeth gasped, THAT'S CHEATING. She thought loudly. And Jack heard her. He saw everything from two directions. He could see Will poised to throw sand into his eyes. Why would he do that?

Jack's cutlass flashed with the speed of a viper. As Will raised his fist to throw, the edge of the blade slid across his wrist and cut him deep. Will dropped the sand, making the wound sting like mad. He tried to ignore it, tried to do anything, but Jack had all the chance he needed. He disarmed William in one fluid movement and held his blade to the Will's throat.

Elizabeth thought the game was up. It was a matter of inches and Will would himself be dead, if Jack just decided to take a little revenge for Isla Cruses.

But all Jack said was, "That's cheating, mate." And he turned around, coldly, unfeeling and sheathed his sword. Elizabeth looked at Jack hard then. She studied his face and noticed, finally, the coldness in his eyes. The emptiness. This wasn't the Jack she knew. What happened to you? She thought, not daring to ask it aloud as Jack walked by.

But Jack heard her, his mood was black again. He could help but be bitter. What did she see in that whelp anyway?

He answered he question, "You can't possibly imagine what has happened to me." The Captain disappeared into his ship, none of the rest of the crew saw him until the following morning.

Tia Dalma leaned over the counter as so far that she had to stand on her tip toes. She whispered so that only the bar tender could hear her.

"I hear tell of a gathrin of da brothrin?" The bar tender was a sweaty Asian man, with a pointed beard an distrustful eyes. He answered her in halting English.

"The password have you, yes?" She leaned even closer.

"Honor amongst thieves."

"I may know somesing, but how do I know I give to you? You betrayer?" Like she would answer "yes" if she was.

She pointed to herself, "Tia Dalma."

"OH, me heard many stories bout you, you make dragon out of sea water, save the Jin Sheng fleet, yes?" She nodded.

"Dat were a long time ago. You have de information I seek or not?"

The man pulled a chart from beneath the bar. He carefully traced the root with his finger of where she needed to go, and whispered the heading in her ear. The bar was completely empty but they still looked around as if someone was watching.

Tia thanked the ex-pirate quickly and left bar. Barbossa was watching from a distance.

When Tia had vanished over the rise that led to the beach he went into the empty tavern himself.

"What will you have?" he bar tender had become accustomed to Barbossa's face and his business.

"I'll have what my friend was having." He said, and drew his cutlass and held it to the man's throat.

"It's bleeding again." Elizabeth tried to bind up Will's wrist. "Hold still."

"That stings."

"Grow a back bone." Elizabeth laughed at him, trying to lighten his mood. But Will was cross. "Oh, it isn't that bad. You can always make another sword; I know you can make one twice as beautiful. And you and Jack will never lack in things to fight about. I am sure you will have a chance to cross blades with him again."

It was true that Jack and Will would never lack things to come to blows over. Will gazed fixedly at Elizabeth. "Oh, it isn't so much that which makes me fractious. I don't see how he knew. I told you I fought him before, but then he never showed such intuition as he did last night. I swear he new exactly what I would do before I did it."

Elizabeth had wondered at it too. She had watched Jack block attack after attack as if he had someone whispering in his ear what to expect. But he was even more troubled by it than Will. She remembered how he had answered the question she had never voiced like he had read he mind. It was a ridiculous notion, but it was troublesome nonetheless.

"You think I am quite foolish don't you?" Will asked her. "I saw the look you gave me. Do you think badly of me for cheating? It wasn't as if I had planned to, it just happened."

"That doesn't bother me. I would have likely done the same thing; you were fighting a pirate. It was the look on your face, murderous. I didn't like THAT."

"I'm sorry." Will said, maybe for the third time. He tried to grip her fingers with his injured hand. "Ow."

"Don't apologize to me! It doesn't bother me, or hurt me in anyway. Apologize to him."

"I am not going to that." Will said, his dark mood returning. They were sitting in the hold of the ship, attempting to maintain some privacy. Will was leaning against some grain sacks. Elizabeth was sitting cross-legged beside him, finished his wrist.

"Why not?"

"It is his fault in the first place. If he hadn't have taken the sword we would never have had reason to fight." Elizabeth rolled her eyes

"Oh, I very much doubt that. But suit yourself. I'm not you conscience, I'm just your future wife. You don't have to listen to me."

Will sat forward and looked her in the eyes. "Don't be like that." He said in a pacifying voice. Will leaned forward even farther and kissed her on the forehead.

She finished patching up his wrist, "Stop trying to appease me. There, you are mended." She stood, and smiled at him despite herself, and went out on deck to see how the repairs were going.

It was only a few hours after sunrise. It seemed that everything was ready, except the captain had gone back to his cabin and not returned, and Tia Dalma, who Jack was not willing to leave without, was still missing. Elizabeth went and knocked at Jacks door.

"Go away." Came his muffled voice from inside, sounding quite as bad-tempered as Will and possibly more so.

"Do you know where Tia is?" She asked. There was some rattling from inside and Jack opened the door a fraction of the inch to look at her.

"I haven't seen her since we arrived. Isn't she back yet?" Jack squinted and held one hand to his head. He had a blaring headache.

"No she isn't, and the plan was we should set sail today, so someone should go find her." Jack emerged from his dark room like the light had insulted him. He still wasn't himself, Elizabeth saw. She blamed it on the Locker. There was no other explanation.

There was a yell from the rigging. Jack winced.

"The witch is comin!" Elizabeth saw Tia taking a dignified stroll through the sand toward them.

"You took your own time getting here." Jack observed when she reached the deck.

"I hov news, Jack, there is to be a gathering. Among da brethren." Those close enough to hear her fell silent. Tia didn't like the sudden attention, she grabbed Jack by the arm and led him into the head room. Elizabeth followed without thinking.

"Go out." Tia ordered her. "What I say be for da ears of da brethren only." Jack raised and eyebrow.

"She is alright. She's a pirate." Jack gave her a knowing look. Elizabeth almost left anyway. She couldn't bear to be called a pirate by Jack, not when they both knew what he meant by it. But yet, she could not leave. She was too curious to know what it was that only pirates can know, and why it exited Tia so. Curiosity. That was what Jack had said wasn't it?


	5. Chapter 9

**(Chapter Ten)**

**A Random Event**

Lord Cutler Beckett smiled a wide evil grin. Norrington leaned his chair back against the wall and watched him. He didn't like it. Beckett held the heart and in the sack once more, and he was watching Norrington, and coming to many conclusions about him at once.

"We have do it." Beckett stated. "Can you feel that? That air of accomplishment? We have won the day my friend, and without a single drop of blood spilled. This is truly a great day for the East India Trading Company." Beckett paced the length of the cabin jubilantly.

"We don't know that Jones will keep his end of the bargain." Norrington observed.

Beckett shook his head, "He can't afford not too." He shook the bag meaningfully.

"I still don't know if Davy Jones will be willing to do such a thing. He loves and hates the sea. Just like he loves and hates himself." Norrington pointed to the sack. "It is possible we are holding him captive with the wrong item."

"There you go again Commodore. Always thinking through all the angles. It has made you very useful that way. What with the trick with the heart and the sea. And then again hold Davy Jones captive with his own heart, just in time to save the crew too. It makes you indispensable to me; you are unpredictable." James nodded warily at the apparent compliment. "Unfortunately…" Beckett signaled to Mercer who was also there and several of his men. "…this makes you as much of a liability as an asset." The men grabbed Norrington and held him fast, pushing him towards the desk, and laying his arm across it.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Norrington yelled as he struggled in vain against the three well muscled men and Mercer.

"Meaning? Don't think of it as having a meaning. It is just a random event, and you good man, have been caught up in the flurry of meaninglessness that is the world we live in. You are a casualty of cruel chance. But it is ironic." Mercer pulled up the Commodores sleeve and his bared the skin of his right wrist. "This is exactly the way I saw Jack Sparrow last. I always thought you were much like him. Who knew you would share his fate."

Beckett walked slowly and decidedly to the fireplace. He drew out a cruel implement, a branding iron in the shape of a P, and looked at it for a moment in silence. It glowed a telling red.

"You can't do this, I have been pardoned! I have the letters." That same evil smile spread over Cutlers features.

"Had the letters." He corrected. "But who has seen them, I am sure I haven't. Have you Mister Mercer?"

"No sir."

"That leaves only you Commodore Norrington, and who will believe you. You are a pirate after all." He came close then and held the iron close to Norringtons arm. "Like Jack Sparrow you have had cruel chance thrust upon you. Maybe, also like him, you will be able to escape and embrace your fate. But that I very much doubt." And Lord Cutler Beckett pressed the brand into Norrington's skin.

In the Faithful Bride tavern of Tortuga, sat a random captain with an unknown name, surrounded by her crew. And the tavern was unusually quiet, all the patrons kept to themselves and nursed their drinks in silent bemusement.

The captain broke her silence and spoke to her first mate. "I do not understand it."

"I do." The other answered without looking up from her drink. "The sea has turned against us."

"She has done more than turn against us she repels us. I dare not go back on the water till it passes."

The captain wiped her mouth. Her skin was a lovely caramel color, her black hair fell down her back under her hat. "You will go where I tell you." But Anamaria, for that was her name, didn't feel inclined herself to set foot on the deck of the Saphire's Pride, her ship and prize, now or possibly ever.

"What assurance do we have that it will pass?" Spoke again the first mate, who also had a name and it was Bethanna.

"What do we do then?" There was a problem on the sea. All the Caribbean swarmed with EITC frigates. Storms trailed pirates ships like they had a mind of their own. And when thunder, lighting, and cannon fire was crashed about them the sea itself seemed retched and hateful. It may have been superstition, but the whole crew felt the malevolence. Anamaria put her boots on the table, it was her favorite way to contemplate. "Do we abandon our way of life and stay on land because we long for safety?"

"No!" Was the response from her crew, they slammed their mugs down on the benches, all women and strong ones. All come together to show that women were even fiercer if they needed to be, than men. The new crew with their fiercely independent captain.

"But…" Bethanna the voice of reason, "What can we do against the sea. She is too much for us."

"Are we not pirates?" Anamaria was in a state now, "Is it not our business to fight the sea, and live in her cold embrace as long as we might. Free." Aye said the crew.

"What would the best of us do?"

"Teach!"

"Kidd!"

"Sparrow." This was Anamaria again, and quietly. Jack had got her this ship hadn't he? Jack often told the truth, though it always surprised her. She wondered where he was now.

"Then we strike out for glory or death as always." Anamaria concluded, but she was in no better spirits for it.

There was a man standing in the corner of the room, the light of the fire playing upon him, his rough coat wrapped tightly about him, and a slender pipe clamped in his teeth. "There is something evil in sea. Foreign."

"What do you know of it, old man?" She asked genuinely curious.

"Not much, but someone does. They say there has been a special meeting of the brethren called." This was news. Anamaria had never seen a meeting in her life time anyway.

"You have a suggestion for us, I can see."

"I suggest you stay here, until their action is chosen, and we make our offensive." There was an adamant noise of disapproval from the crew. But it was clear they didn't mean it. The sea was hateful to them. Every day more captains and crews poured into Tortuga, and even more news of crews that would never return was given.

So it was that Anamaria stayed, feeling that there was a purpose for it. And they waited a full three months before news was heard of their next action.

It was the most random of days where the Pearl was at that moment. The weather was poor, but not terrible. The water was choppy but not turbulent. The sky was sunny but not bright. Everyone was on edge and crabby. Except Jack who didn't seemed bothered by sea. Where everyone else felt like there was something other than poor seas going on in the deep, jack just felt the same emptiness as always.

He was worried too however. His mind was on the charts of this area. His mood darkened as they moved closer and closer to the pieces of the sea proclaimed as the properties of the Asian pirate fleets. But this was the fastest way to the meeting point.

Elizabeth noticed everything, and Will noticed nothing. William was lost in his own thoughts much of the time. He mind was closer and closer to his father and the promise he had made, as they continued to move farther away. His head was full of plans to rescue his father, attack the Flying Dutchman, recover the Heart. It was emptied of anything that had not to do with the mission he had set for himself.

Elizabeth saw this. She tried hard not to be hurt by it. Will and she seemed to be even more estranged now that they were reconciled. She hardly knew who she was looking at when their eyes met. Elizabeth found it hard to remember the Will she had fallen in love with first, though she loved him still, she knew this was not him. Maybe, she thought, that was what Will felt when he looked at her.

More than she would have liked, Elizabeth noticed Jack. It bothered her to see him so changed. She wondered secretly if this was the real Jack and he had just given up pretending. Something, or maybe many things, were weighing heavily on his mind. He spent all of his time brooding, that he did not spend hiding in his cabin or drinking rum. Elizabeth had almost asked Tia what was wrong with him, but of course, that would advertise her interest so she abstained.

On this particular morning Will had taken too climbing the rigging to get a better view of the surrounding seas. They were passing through a wide straight bordered by mountainous spikes of rock rising form the sea. This was their path too a meeting of some kind. Will had not been well informed on the matter.

Elizabeth was alone on the deck, trying to find some way to help but everything seemed to me well in hand. Tia was at the helm, she has set up permanent residence there. The crew was mostly inactive, finding various things to do, like whittle or play sad songs on various instruments. Jack had taken up his usual position at the side of the ship and was staring fixedly at the water, with something like longing in his eyes.

Elizabeth walked over, thinking it might be possible to distract him from whatever was making him so grim this day, "Jack."

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, "Yes, love?"

"Can you explain to me about the brethren again? I'm not sure I understand."

He curled his lip, "Isn't Tia around here somewhere? I am sure she can tell you."

"She is busy."

"As am I" He fiddled with the piece of trophy lace about his wrist.

"The sea won't vanish for want of you staring at it, you know."

"It might very well," and he went back to his vigil. But Elizabeth showed no signs of leaving, so he began to speak. "The brethren, as I said, is a fraternity of pirates. They swore that if ever our way of life be threatened they would band together and fight for it. Treasure, the sea, freedom and all that." He seemed to think he had explained thoroughly so he fell silent again.

"How often do these meetings take place?"

"Never…or at least this is the first one I have heard of. Something's certainly got them vexed." Jack sounded like he was getting overly serious again.

"Who called this thing anyway?"

Jack turned to face her, "We aren't that friendly. Suffice to say, love, those what know the most about such affairs see fit to congregate in a preplanned locality to discuss the welfare of their constituents, savvy?"

"So if we don't know who we are meeting, then how do we know where we are meeting them?"

"Pirate hierarchy takes care that the information gets the right sources, so that like the location of Tortuga, the location of the meeting place remains know to only those what need to know it." Jack waved a hand as if it was all very technical and that she was better off not knowing.

"So Tia is a member of this hierarchy?" Elizabeth didn't want to drop the subject, not only did it keep Jack occupied, she really wanted to know.

Jack nodded, "I have my doubts, love, that if she weren't on the list, so to speak, they would be able to keep much a secret from her anyway."

Elizabeth stood and contemplated for a time, and they were both silent. Yet another question occurred to her then. "With all these powerful pirate fleets and ships in one place, how do you keep them form killing one another?"

"We have a pact. Not to worry, it was promised a long time ago that when in the sacred meeting of the brethren all peace will be held." Jack went back to staring at the sea, tapping his fingertips on the wood, "Now run along and find your betrothed, I'm sure he needs keeping out of trouble."

And then the conversation was gone, with no hope of recovering it, so Elizabeth turned at started to take Jack's advice. She was startled by a shout form the crow's nest, followed closely by a second.

"A ship is coming about form behind the rocks! Two of them!"

"And another, from behind, flying no colors!"

The ship was surrounded in seconds, when before they had had the ocean all to themselves. The three ships looked jagged and sinister, like they had been carved roughly out of the stone, with tell-tale red Asian sails, and decks full of pirates, bloodlust in their eyes.

Jack was moving in a flash, there was only one way. Even with the superior size and fire power of the Pearl, three ships were more than a match. Tia knew, even as Jack told her, what needed to be done. They made for the quickly closing space between the two ships in front of them and the rocks all along the sides. But it was all ready too late, the space was gone and they were nearly ready to be dashed against the rocks.

"Drop anchor!" Jack yelled, and the order was followed in that instant. They had given up one kind of death for another, Jack thought. Even as he thought it gunfire started splintering it's way along the deck. Gibbs was by Jack side, yelling over the noise of it.

"There is nothing for it, Captain, all our options are used up." The ships that surrounded them were closing in, readying to board. They had maybe five minutes.

"Gather the crew, go down to the powder store, and we will barricade ourselves in, savvy?" Gibbs hesitated for only a moment to consider the dire implications of this plan, but quickly he obeyed. No matter to Jack, who had long since stopped paying attention to his first mate.

There was an extreme sense of panic, he felt it, but he wasn't panicking. He scanned the deck for Elizabeth.

"Will!" Gibbs yelled at him, "come on to the powder store." Will looked around the deck one last frantic time, but again he didn't see Elizabeth. She must have already gone to the store room, he thought, and followed Gibbs. Then overtook him and went to know for sure.

Jack did see her. She was standing in the stern of the ship, wide eyed, gun fire riddling the wood all around her. She saw something on the other ships, they were readying to fire. Jack grabbed her and they fell to the deck. She fell hard, bruising her chin on the boards, making everything go white and then black before she could focus again.

The cannon ball passed so close that they could feel the wind as it went by. The shot whistled then exploded. Jack put his arm around Elizabeth to protect her form the flying debris. She had recovered from the sudden shock of falling, just in time for Jack to pull her to her feet.

They set off running as fast they could through the hail storm of shot. It was a miracle they survived it.

Will opened the door again to search, out of his mind with worry. She wasn't here, so where could she be? He was met with Jack and Elizabeth pushing him back inside, both breathing heavily. They closed the door tightly and stopped up the entrance with barrels.

The room was completely dark, but for the light the crept in through the cracks in the door and walls, and silent but for the breathing of its occupants. They all listened to the muffled pounding from on deck. Shot was still raining on the ship, there were several more explosions of cannon fire.

"This is madness," Will spoke from close beside Elizabeth. "One stray shot and we will all be dead."

Gibbs nodded agreement, "He's right, Captain there is enough powder in here to kill us all ten times over." In the light, or the lack there of, Elizabeth watched Jack Sparrow. He had his forehead resting on his hand, his eyes tightly shut, the very picture of deep thought. He racked his brain for anything that might save them.

Nothing came. There was a clamor from on deck, Jack opened his eyes and met Elizabeth's. Please, there must be something, she thought. They had stopped firing on the ship. They wanted to take her intact, an undermanned galleon like the Pearl was a prize they licked their chops over. They had boarded her…

Jack raised his head for a moment…they didn't want to risk an explosion. "Gibbs, say that again."

"There's enough powder in this room to kill us all ten times over?" That smile spread over Jack's face. He jumped to his feet and began to dig through the items in the room, The crew all looked at each other.

"No," Jack was saying, "twenty times over, or more!" He pulled out a box of fuses and looked at them for a moment then tossed them aside and picked two smallish barrels. "Give us your pistol, Gibbs."

The stocky man, now taking a hurried swig out of his flask, didn't obey right away.

Pintel spoke up, "If you're intending on speeding up the process."

"We'll have to respectfully decline." Raggetti finished.

"Dead men tell no tales!" Cotton's parrot squawked.

"May I ask Captain, what you are intending to do?" Jack began to move the barrels from in front of the door.

"I will set off an explosion with these, clear the deck, and give you a chance to make your escape onto the rocks."

"That's suicide." Elizabeth breathed.

"The lass is right," Gibbs continued, and as he did yelling and the sound of boots became louder above them. "Even if you get past the cutlasses, pistols and the lot, you have hardly a hope of escaping the explosion."

Jack waved his hand, "It doesn't matter!...this is important. Listen, give us your pistol. Stay down here, barricade the door behind me and do not open it until you hear the blast. Understand?" Jack looked at his crew, holding one barrel under each arm, and two pistols in his belt. He didn't ever expect to see them again, he regretted that, but nothing else.

Will was silent, totally stoic. He wished that this could have ended some other way, but he didn't wish it for Jack's sake. He was looking at Elizabeth.

Her eyes were wide, worried, scared, fierce. She looked at Jack, knowing that this might be the last time she would ever see him. These might be the last word she ever said to him…but her mind went blank.

Jack looked all about the room, his eyes lingered on Elizabeth for a moment and he turned to leave.

"Jack!" She stepped forward her pulse was racing, "I am, I'm so-" Held up a finger to silence her.

"Hold that thought, love." And he turned and disappeared, the door slammed tightly behind him.

Mere minutes later the blast resounded throughout the ship, and for the longest second in the world, none of the crew had the will to open the door.

Lord Cutler Beckett was glad to be back in Port Royal. He smiled and sloshed the last bit of brandy around in the bottom of the fine crystal glass he held.

"Excellent to see you again Governor Swann. It never ceases to amaze me just how grand the sensation is, to stand in ones own rooms again after a long time at sea." He smiled at the map before him, never having given the governor a glance.

"I wish I could say the same, however, there is the matter of my daughter. Where is she now? I was promised that she would be returned to me." Weatherby Swann again wore his long wig upon his head, his clothes were clean, his face was powdered. But it must be said that he looked entirely worse for wear. His eyes were red with dark circles beneath. He looked fully ten years older.

Beckett bowed his head in mock sorrow, "I fear, that I was unable to complete my voyage. We searched as long as we could, but complications arose and we were forced, regrettably, to return."

"What complications?" He was beyond desperate, but he managed to sound calm.

"Treachery." Lord Beckett did not elaborate. A servant came into the room.

"Treachery? Among your own crew? I find that…incredible."

The servant made an effort to get his masters attention, the urgency of his message out weighing his fear of Beckett. The diminutive man ignored him.

"We found that there was reason to believe, that our own Commodore Norrington had intentions of instigating a mutiny among the crew and commandeering the vessel."

"Master." The servant tried again quietly.

"Commodore Norrington?"

"I am afraid there is no doubt on the subject. It was decided that the safest course of action was to return to Port Royal for an immediate trial and execution."

The servant was frantic now, "Master! There is a matter that requires you immediate attention."

"Silence Irone, can you not see I am speaking to the governor?" The servant backed away into the corner and was silent.

"You will be setting out again?"

"Hmm?" Cutler had lost the train of thought in his outburst.

"You will set out again to find my daughter, will you not?" Beckett resisted the urge to curl his lip. This governor was more than just a bur in his saddle, he was a bleeding thorn in his side.

"Of course, as soon as we have re-gathered our resources." Swann bowed in thanks, though he trusted this man far less than he could through him, and excused himself form the room, feeling unclean somehow.

He would have to be taken care of. Cutlet thought as he poured himself some more brandy. "What was it that you needed, Irone?" He took a long drink.

"Milord, it concerns Mr. Norrington, he has well…" The man fiddled with something that he held in his hands.

"If he is requesting a bargain the request is to be ignored."

"It isn't that, Milord. He has escaped Milord." The agent of the East India Trading Company stopped.

"Say that again."

"The ex-commodore has escaped, this was found in the lock of his cell door." The servant held up a bit of joint bone, sharp at one end.

The expensive crystal cup fell from Cutler Beckett's hand, and shattered all over the floor.

One tentacle curled it's way around the quill pen it held. Davy Jone's leaned over his papers and said to his first mate, "What is the count now?"

"Five sunk by cannon fire, and eight more have been dragged down by the Kraken." The shark faced half man licked his pointed teeth. "But their numbers are dwindling daily, it is unlikely we will find many more ship outside of Tortuga.

"Then our job is done." He laid down his pen and struggled to stand. He started making his way back to his organ. To himself he whispered, "Your move."

Jack heard the door slam behind him. It figured, he thought, not even a good luck wish. He had never realized playing the hero was such a thankless job. He had never been very good at it, anyway.

It was impossible to protect himself, his arms full of powder, the possibility every moment a bullet would put an end to him. He emerged from below deck and was immediately met with a cutlass ready to take of his head. He ducked and rolled, one barrel slipping form his grip and rolling down to the bow of the Black Pearl. "Bugger!"

There were maybe thirty men on the deck of the Pearl right then. All seemed a bit surprised at Jacks appearance, but they were prepared to shoot first and ask questions later. Jack ducked again as the man who had first attacked him swung his sword again and buried it in the mast. Jack pulled one of the pistols from his belt and fired at him, he missed, and threw the entire gun at him, hitting the nearly toothless pirate squarely in the forehead. He crumpled to the deck, senseless.

Jack tuned on his heel and ran, drawing his sword as he went, protecting himself with it where he could. He made his way quickly to the stern and tossed his barrel into position. Jack ducked behind the open door of the captain's cabin. There was all sorts of frenzied yelling, coming toward him.

A shirtless gentlemen, his bald head tattooed all over with dragons, pulled the door opened and jumped Captain Sparrow, knife in hand. A surprised look made his eyes go wide when he met with a blade, now protruding from his back. A trickle of blood ran out of his gaping mouth. Jack pushed him away, pulling a new pistol from the dead man's belt as he fell.

He took a deep breath, it could have been his last, he didn't know. And ran into the fray again, again it was a miracle that the pistol shots all missed as they rained down around him. He made directly for the second barrel the one he had lost. Here his cutlass clashed with another, there a pistol ball flew past his ear.

Everything slowed down to a crawl, Jack was aware of the three men behind him, closing fast. He kicked the barrel of gunpowder that lay on its side, and rolled toward the center of the ship. He jumped to the railing and stood there for and eternity, sheathing his sword, drawing the pistols. He pointed one at each barrel. In his ears was a sound like the slamming of boulders into a gorge. The collective click of twenty pistols cocked and pointed at him. He aimed for the barrels, one bullet for each.

"Sorry." He apologized and fired.

He dropped he guns and dived of the ship, one hand gripping his hat, the sensation of a bullet grazing his shoulder following after. He heard the explosion just before he hit the water.

Elizabeth was the one to finally pull the door open. She drew her own cutlass and ran on deck, ready for a fight. It was an ugly scene. The bodies of the dead and dying lay strewn all over. Ugly scorch marks accented the surface of the deck. The two or three men left standing looked dazed made no move to challenge them.

And there the crew of the Black Pearl stopped for a moment and stared. Some wondered where they would go when they reached the rocks, others scanned the faces of the bodies and wondering where their captain lay.

Then the cannon fire started from all three enemy ships. They seemed to have realized what had taken place, all thought of taking the Pearl intact had been driven from their minds.

The impact knocked the air out of Jack, his cloths and sword weighed him down pulling him even deeper. He struggled to break the water's surface. Air, he needed to breath. He gasped and coughed when he reached the open air.

Looking back on the Pearl. His crew was just standing there on the deck, then the cannon balls descend in huge deadly arches. Jack pressed his hat back onto his head and began to swim toward the closest ship.

Before they could think, more men were swinging over, yelling in Japanese, or another language none of them understood. The crew stood back to back and drew swords, cocked pistols, watched as the murderous men surrounded them.

Jack stood wet and dripping on the deck of the Asian flag ship. His sword held to out and pointing at the throat of the captain.

"Call off the attack!" Captain Jack Sparrow yelled over the cannons. "CALL IT OFF, OR I WILL KILL YOU!"

The captain of the Asian pirate ship, a man of severe aspect, with an unhealthy sense of revenge, cocked his head and looked at the man before him. A legendary figure, with a red bandana around his head and eyes that cold burn holes through steel, "Jack Sparrow?" He said, "I thought you were dead." He made a motion with is hand and the fire suddenly stopped.

Jack did a double take, and looked back at the man with renewed interest, "Sao Feng?" The captain shouted new orders to his boarding party.


	6. Chapter 10

**(Chapter Ten)**

**Clearly You Have Never Been To Singapore**

The men slowly surrounded the crew, ready at any moment to attack, they kept their weapons at the ready. Their faces were like worn cloth, rough and ragged, like they had seen to many days at sea.

There was no perceptible movement by the crew of the Black Pearl. Except the occasional flapping of wing of the nervous parrot. The men murmured between themselves but didn't make a move to attack. One taller character began to yell at them in a language no one understood. I was clear that he wanted them to move, from the way he brandished his sword.

Planks were extended from the red sailed pirate ship to the Black Pearl and at the point of the sword the crew crossed over, with murderous men before them, and vicious men behind.

Elizabeth was silent, impassive. Her movements were stiff and labored. To her, like most of the rest of the crew, this seemed like a very bad dream. She would wake up at any moment. She had to wake up.

The ship where they now stood was called the Ivory Edge, in English. The crew that surrounded Elizabeth, Will and the others were commonly referred to as scum. A man, bald with a thick black mustache and a long braided beard, stood at one end of the circle they were stuck in. He was obviously in charge. They could tell, if not from the way that the surrounding crew kept a respectful distance, by the way that all the Asian pirates shot him quick worried, or possible questioning glances. The man began to speak, and a smaller hunched over pirate translated.

"You speck Engles, yes? You are in presence of Master Admiral Sao Feng of the Feng fleet. He ask you to hand over weapon. You will not resist, yes?" Three well muscled figures stepped forward. In the interest of survival everyone prepared to hand over their various blunderbusses, muskets, pistols, cutlasses, daggers, and sharpened sticks, all that is but Elizabeth.

She drew her sword so fast it gave Pintel whiplash. Will didn't even have time to object before the silvered blade was flashing around the circle, flashing like her eyes were flashing. Her eye were red with unshed tears, her fist was trembling at her side.

"Don't come any closer!" she said quietly, in a dangerous rasp. Her throat was raw, and breath came in ragged gasps to her burning lungs.

A chorus of metal on metal filled the air, as new swords were drawn, followed by a veritable aria of shouted Japanese, all gibberish to the Pearls crew. Elizabeth was not intimidated, indeed, she didn't care at all. She was quite comfortable with this being her last moment.

Over the shouting she heard something that made her look up. The forbidding figure in charge yelled, "Sparrow" Through a teary blur she caught sight of an auspicious three pointed hat, an only slightly fade read bandana, and a smirking, but rather surprised pair of brown eyes.

Elizabeth dropped her cutlass, and dropped her eyes to where it had clattered to the deck. _Thank you, _she thought to herself and whoever was listening, so quietly that not even Jack heard her.

Jack was surprised, yes; to find Elizabeth standing like a horsewoman of the apocalypse, without a horse, ready to take on the entire bloody ship. But if that surprised him, it was nothing compared to the way her reaction to him surprised him.

It was like she had been drained of color, voice, life even. She just stood there, looking perplexed, and not looking at him. Though she was no where near as perplexed as Jack. Or Will for that matter. William Turner, allowed his mouth to hang open for a while as if it would better enable him to get a hold on what had just happened.

"What is the problem?" Jack asked. He had been below deck for maybe two minutes. He had been ushered there by a pair of short eunuchs, by the looks of them, who forced upon him some dry Asian cloths, captain's orders, which quite frankly looked ridiculous on him.

Sao Feng answered him in hurried and rather annoyed Japanese, "Your crew is turning violent. This long haired man is like a wasp. Control him before he stings." At this Jack burst into laughter.

It seemed that Jack new these men. It seemed that way because he did. How he knew them was not clear. For how long was not clear. Whether or not most of these men were willing to kill Jack in his sleep at the drop of a hat was clear, however. The answer was yes and gladly.

The only two people on the ship, the Ivory Edge; that seemed to be on good terms that evening, were Jack and Sao Feng. Will was just despondent, and even if he hadn't been Elizabeth hadn't said more than three words since their fight. All others kept to themselves, save Pintel and Raggetti, and Cotton and his parrot.

Saying that Jack had a friend, or something like a friend but considerably less friendly, in no way implied that Jack himself was in a happy. He managed to hide this fact beneath a bottle of saki, and Feng's exuberant conversation.

"Where have you been for the past ten years?" He asked for maybe the third time, speaking in English better than Jack's. "When Min learns of it…"

"You are going to tell her then?" Jack asked wincing almost imperceptibly.

"Better…" Sao smiled, this too was almost imperceptible. This was where his over developed sense of revenge came into play. "You are. I look forward to seeing what she will do to you." Jack rubbed his cheek, because he knew very well what she would do, and winced more flagrantly this time.

"None of this was technically my fault. The plan was to go, get the treasure and come back. But through a sieres of events that have nothing whatever to do with my failings as a pirate or a captain…"

"Nothing you say will change my enjoyment of that moment. Save your explanations for my little sister. We make port in Singapore in a few days." Sao Feng leaned back in his seat, and began to turn a hideously sharp knife over and over again between his fingers.

Jack took another swallow of saki. "What brings you so far west anyway. You are usually crewing nearer your home ports this time of year."

"We came for the meeting of the brothers, but bad luck with a typhoon off the coast and then your antics with the gunpowder forced us to make port early and restore our supplies." Jack ground his teeth.

"You attacked the Pearl, mate." Jack really didn't care. It wasn't that he hated his ship, it was that he no longer cared what happened to the ship itself. There were only two reasons he had done what he had done, and he didn't like to think about either of them if he could help it. What he was really trying to point out was that Sao Feng had attacked a pirate ship on the way to the gathering of the brethren, and that clear violated every vow that had ever been made.

"Rich ship, no witnesses, no one would know you were gone." Jack agreed with him, not out loud though. Out loud Jack Sparrow was they same cocky and half crazed captain that had once saved his fleet with the help of a mysterious woman with black teeth. Silently Jack just wanted to go home…but then he realized he had no home. "But now that I know it was you, Jack Sparrow. I am sorry, Captain Jack Sparrow…" He seemed to loose his train of thought for a moment.

Jack stared out the window. He supposed he had spent more time looking at the sea in the past weeks then he had in his whole life together.

"Now Jack Sparrow, tell me, where have you been the nearly 13 years we thought you were dead."

"I was dead." Was the only response Sao Feng could get out of him.

Three days found them in Singapore. The bustling city looked like a flower bed if you looked down at it from a tall building. Colors blended and moved in the form of clothing and fruit carts and awnings dyed to ridiculous shades.

The pirate ships where either not recognized or not a problem, for the people and authorities took their appearance in stride. The Pearl had come along with them. Some of Sao's men had effectively taken it over and sailed it in behind them. The crew of the Pearl was confined, but kindly on the Ivory Edge. When they arrived the crew of the Edge, and the others dispersed into the city as if they never were. Jack and Sao left together, they had an appointment of some kind. Jack's crew was given orders to return to the Pearl by noontide on the next day and set loose.

The only word to describe Will was preoccupied. He and Elizabeth hardly spent anytime together save fencing practice. Their conversations were as dry and pointless as bread crumbs. Though Elizabeth didn't know it, she had guessed at the deeper reason behind it all. William Turner's ignoring of her was much more than him being worried about the Heart, their mission or his father. His indifference came down to one thing that though he had tried, pray, and fought with himself over it nothing could change it. He could not forgive Elizabeth. Everything in her manner suggested that she was actively trying NOT to think about Jack and as a result she did.

She had told him that Jack had never meant anything to her. Basically everyone on the ship had heard it. But either she had lied to him or she was lying to herself. Which was worse he didn't know, but he could not face her and continue to ignore the fact that he couldn't push the thought from his mind.

They were among the last few on the ship, along with Tia, who frowned heavily at the crab claws she had thrown on the deck. Will was acutely aware of the fact. He approached Elizabeth and said tentatively, "I have some things to attend to in the city before we set sail."

Elizabeth nodded, of course he did. She would have been an idiot not to expect this.

"Are you alright with that?" he asked lifting her chin to look at her.

"Yes, it's fine. Why would it bother me?" She answered half heartedly.

"Alright. I will see you tonight. Meet me on the beach over there and we will have practice. I will be there at the eventide bell." She nodded again, forced a smile and squeezed his fingers lovingly.

Will lent forward and made an attempt to kiss her on the cheek. He brushed his lips against her skin and turned away and walked down the gang plank. Elizabeth resisted the urge to throw something heavy at him and walked over to where Tia knelt on the deck.

"What is it?"

"Dere is somfin sinister in the throw of the claws. I fear somfin from da past will endanger…" She bent even closer to the claws and examined it closely. Then she stopped and looked directly at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth held up a hand. "No evil prophecies today." She said, and wander into the city to try to loose herself until the eventide bell.

It was probably an indication of how the rest of the encounter was going to go when Min's first impulse upon seeing Jack in her home was to bring a colorful paper umbrella down hard on his head. She started shouting at him in a frenzied mixture of several languages that he didn't always understand.

Gibbs, Cotton, Pintel, Raggetti, and Marty were all gathered outside. The idea of following their captain and finding out once and for all the answer to that question that had plagued them since they had met him, was just too much. That pivotal question was, "What exactly happened in Singapore?" They heard a lot of yelling and the occasional crash of a vase.

Sao Feng stood in the corner, enjoying himself immensely.

Jack was not enjoying himself, he was trying to survive. As far as he could tell Min was yelling at him for running out on her and pretending to be dead in order to avoid certain commitments.

He tried to explain. And as he did he held his hands protectively before him. Min was a very beautiful girl. How she had ever fallen for Jack was unclear, but she was most likely asking herself that question as well. She was wearing a very colorful dress, decorated in a floral pattern and brandishing her umbrella in a fearsome manner. She wasn't listening as Jack told her a ridiculous story involving mutiny and cursed Aztec gold, as far as Min Feng was concerned anything Jack Sparrow said was a lie purely by virtue of him saying it. Instead she looked at his hands.

His fingers were covered in several heavy rings. On the thumb of Jack's right hand there was a gorgeous golden ring, embellished with a golden dragon over a lovely stone of Jade. Min's cheeks became very red.

She grabbed Jack by the wrist in an iron grip you wouldn't expect from a girl of her slender build, and yanked off the ring, holding it up for him to see.

Jack fell silent at this, and winced. After another stream of mixed languages, many of the words not meant for mixed company, she slapped Jack soundly across the face so hard that Gibbs heard it outside.

Jack stepped out of the house closely followed by a broadly grinning Sao Feng who said, "I told you once to stay away from my sister, did I not?"

"I will take care to better follow your advice in future." Jack said as he wiped his bleeding lower lip on his sleeve. The crew of the Black Pearl was gathered there giving their captain inquisitive looks. Jack gave them a tired look and yanked a thumb back in the direction of the house.

"That is what happened in Singapore." And he stomped off leaving them none the wiser.

Gibbs called after him as the eventide bell began to toll, "Where are you going?"

"To walk on the beach."

The bells had tolled their last, nearly half an hour ago. Still Elizabeth sat there, alone watching the sun setting red and pink and orange. Her arms were crossed across her chest. Will had never come. She looked around for him every once in a while but saw no one, and then would return to watching the tide come in and digging out a hole with her heel.

Once when she looked around for the hundredth time she saw that she was no longer alone. The long awaited William had not returned, but Jack had somehow managed to invade the exact piece of beach she was using, and was stomping about dejectedly kicking the sand. He walked right by her before he noticed she was there.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. She noticed that his lip was bleeding slightly.

"I could ask you the same question. Escaping more admirers?"

"They weren't exactly singing my praises. But you didn't answered my question, and mine being first in sequence and importance I am quite offended. Where is dear William?" Jack sat down beside her, his legs stretched in front of him, leaning back on his elbows.

"If I see him I will ask him. As it is I haven't seen him since late this morning. He was supposed to meet be here at the bell."

Jack ever being his courteous and unobtrusive self, asked. "Why?" raising his eyebrows and smirking at her annoyingly.

Elizabeth almost wished she could tell him something intimate and steamy, "For fencing practice." She spat instead, like the words were rather bitter.

Jack cocked his head and looked at her sideways. "You like fencing practice?"

Never willing to admit the truth she said, "Possibly."

"You really WANT to stand around sweating and banging sword together for no apparent reason just to feed some strange delusion that you a accomplishing something?"

Elizabeth was getting slightly annoyed. She would never in a hundred years admit to Jack Sparrow of all people, that she practiced the sword three hours a day with Will just because it was the only thing they seemed to ever do together. "Yes I do! I enjoy sword practice, and what's more I am slightly more than a little bit annoyed the Will has not come to teach me!"

Jack shrugged, and stood. He drew his sword with a pleasant shink "Let's have at it then."

"What? Right now?"

"That was what we were talking about, was it not?" Jack lifted his eyes to heavens as if there might be inscribed was exactly was wrong with this woman. Elizabeth got to her feet.

"You want to practice the sword with me?"

"Elizabeth, if you want to practice sword, as you say you do, then practice it rather than just standing there and questioning the proposition. If you don't want to practice sword then don't say you wish to the way you just have, leading me, the nearly innocent bystander, to believe that you do in fact wish to practice. As it is you are beginning to look very foolish, savvy?" She resisted the urge to laugh and drew her own sword.

"It's Miss Swann you know."

"Yes, you are fond of reminding me. Though it will be Mrs. Elizabeth Turner soon, won't it?" They both stood in an uncomfortable silence for a while. "Well, Miss Swann, let us begin."

Jack was good. His fighting style was a little looser than Will's, and he knew all the drills Will had taught her without having to be taught.

"You aren't bad you know." He cited. "You sure it is Will that does the teaching."

Elizabeth grinned, "I am sure that I am taught by a total stranger, so yes, it must be Will." Jack laughed, and quickened the pace. Elizabeth kept up nicely. "That reminds me. You remember the other night, when you fought."

"Aye." Jack nodded.

"That was amazing, you know. It was almost like you knew what Will planned to do. How did you know?"

Jack fidgeted uncomfortably like he always did when he was lying, and wished he didn't have to. "Intuition, love. Or luck, which ever you prefer."

"I think it was more than that." Elizabeth said, looking him in the eye. Jack scoffed and they moved still faster, until the spun around the beach in something like a frenzied dance, making swirling patterns in the sand with their footprints. It was a dance, she thought, and Jack was a good dancer. She liked this kind of dance better, she thought, no stuffy aristocrats, no corsets, no one there to watch.

The idea of dancing made Elizabeth continue to follow her train of thought. "Where did you learn the sword Jack?" she asked when they paused to rest.

"I learned mostly in the short education I received when I was about sixteen." Jack told her how he had been saved from a sinking ship by a naval officer. Later, the officer having taken a liking to Jack, for God knows what reason, got him apprenticed into a merchant company, he didn't tell her the details, where he learned navigation, the sword, and ways to insult ladies of the court.

Elizabeth laughed at him. She hadn't really imagined that there was more to Jack Sparrow than a rather drunk pirate with far too many things in his hair. Jack reached that point in his story and abruptly stopped. "We now I know more about Jack Sparrow than anyone else." She said triumphantly.

"Or at least as much as I know myself." Jack grinned halfheartedly, it made Elizabeth think he wasn't entirely joking.

They continued with their practice, though now it was more of a competition to see who was the better. At one point Elizabeth grabbed Jacks wrist and held his sword up in the air. Like a reflex Jack's other hand shot up and he twisted her wrist, gently but compellingly, until she was literally forced to fall over.

Elizabeth looked up at him from the sand. "What was that?"

"Tenagi, it's a wrist throw." He waved his hand to indicate the land around them. "Comes with the territory."

She smiled and jumped to her feet, "Show me."

They spent the next several minutes discussing the ins and outs of the wrist throw. Elizabeth found the knowledge intriguing and useful, but her mind was on something else as well. There was a question she had been meaning to ask Jack, but hadn't been willing to. She had been meaning to tell him about the shared memories.

The dock wasn't too far away from where they practiced. It was good that lantern light came from that direction, for darkness had closed in pretty tightly by this time. Elizabeth threw Jack one last time for good measure and then sat down on the ground.

Elizabeth pondered a way to break into the subject of memories without actually mentioning any of them, when Jack spoke first. He was looking at the sea again. He had rarely taken his eyes off it since he returned.

"We should probably return."

"Return where?"

"The ship I suppose." Elizabeth smiled in the dark, she smiled and then frowned. And Jack did the same thing though they didn't see each other. It was a strange situation, to be alone with one another on that darkening beach after everything that had happen, not entirely unpleasant, but somehow it made them both uneasy.

"I'm staying and waiting for Will. If I have to stay here all night, I don't care." Jack tried to read what she was thinking, but he couldn't tell. She was impassive like a marble statue, the little grin of the moon reflecting off her skin. Elizabeth continued to frown. No easy way of broaching the subject presented it's self. She concentrated really hard on a way to word this question.

"Jack, I have been meaning to ask you something."

He looked at her. "All that time in close quarters on the ship, and you wait until we are alone on a deserted beach to ask me a question. I am suspicious."

"It is about the…Locker. I have been meaning to ask you, or rather tell you something. Specifically about the tear chamber…" Jack raised an eyebrow. She had seen that then, did that mean she could hear his thoughts? Jack looked her in the eyes. He thought not.

They just looked at each other of a while and Elizabeth felt sick to her stomach again, that unpleasant sensation of guilt. It was like she was betraying Will again. But she wasn't doing anything, they were just talking, he was just looking at her.

Jack knew that his secret was better than hers. How often did you find yourself able to understand another's thoughts? It probably would have been courteous to tell her, but he didn't.

She opened her mouth again to speak, but someone was coming up behind her. His voice interrupted her, "Here you are. I've been looking for you."

Elizabeth managed to smile through her anger at Will. "Well, I was here the whole time. Right where you told me to meet you…over an hour ago."

"I apologize but something came up."

"That happens a lot doesn't it?" She said, still smiling, so much venom in her voice Jack wouldn't have been surprised to see that she had a forked tongue.

He got to his feet as fast as he could, without looking like he was trying to get to his feet as fast as he could. Tipping his hat to Elizabeth in an effort to escape a potentially violent situation, "Good evening, Miss Swann, I will leave you and your affianced to finish the lesson. Good-bye William, good luck." Will gave Jack a look on unveiled ill wishes and mistrust and Jack started to walk, away.

NO! Elizabeth thought in a scream, I haven't asked my questions! I haven't had a chance to say what I wanted to say to him!

Jack turned around and smirked at her, "Don't worry, you can ask me later." He said aloud, and continued down the beach. She widened her eyes.

"What was that?" Will asked her when Jack was out of ear shot.

"What was what? It was nothing. I was waiting here for YOU, and Jack came by and practiced with me instead, that is all." She jabbed a finger into his chest when she said "you".

"Elizabeth, I am not trying to hurt you, but what do you think a man like him is interested in anyway? It isn't your personality!"

Elizabeth threw her arms in the air, "What are you talking about? I already told you that nothing happened. If you had come when you said you would we wouldn't even be having this fight." She added, "What gave you the idea that he is was interested in me anyway? I KILLED him for God's sake!"

Will gestured to her. "Who wouldn't be, Elizabeth? You are beautiful, everyone who meets you falls in love with you. I am not blind and I am not stupid, and you would have to be both not to see the way he acts when you're around, and when he looks at you and when he talks to you."

"I think that that is just jealousy speaking, he is as indifferent to me as anyone else."

"Should I be jealous?"

"Oh, grow up, Will. Stop acting like a school boy. Jack is Jack. I have already told you that there is no Jack and I. If you don't believe me then say it, but at least if we can't trust each other, lets be honest." Will didn't say anything for a long, long time.

"We should go back to the ship." He said not looking at her anymore.

"What happened to us, Will?" She asked in a whisper, but he never answered.

"I'm sorry Elizabeth." Elizabeth looked away from him too, and they walked together, and by themselves at the same time, back to the ports.

Something fundamental had broken between them. And both of them could not help but lament the fact that they would love the other as long as they lived.


	7. Chapter 11

**(Chapter Eleven)**

**The Brethren**

(An hour earlier…)

Will squinted to be able to see anything in the dim. How he could gather any information in this hole? He stood in an alley, covered by a tiled roof and leading off into the blackness of who new what.

"Who there." Came the chopped English of a disembodied voice.

"I was told I could find information about the brethren here."

"You have payment?" A greasy palm was held out to receive the coins. Will handed them over slowly and watched the man go through a ritual of counting the coins and biting them to be sure they were real before he would give Will his attention.

"Who tell you you find me here? Who say I have information you seek?"

"That isn't part of the game is it?" Will asked. It was a good strong phrase, and Will liked it.

"Yessss. You wan information bout the gathering of the pirates yes? I know much bout such matters, things trickle down, they reach my ears. You come to right place for this information."

"We will see. You have your coins, now tell me what I want to know."

The grubby man stroked his long white, sharply pointed beard, and look about conspiratorially as if the clay bricks of the alley had ears.

"What you want to knowing?"

"Where is the summit held?"

"There is a tight bay, hard to navigate. It is called The Herons Neck. Very tight straight, hard to negotiate. You make it through you find your way to a bay. There the ships gather. In the tight forested slope, above the bay, of black pines the network of paths leads up, up, up the mountain." He raised his hands, "and there at the summit, you will find the summit." He snorted with laughter at his own weak joke.

"Is there something else I need to know?" Something in the man's manner told Will that he hadn't quite finished.

"You must watch your step there. The men are anxious; one word could start a war." There was a crash at the other end of the narrow street that made them both turn to look. The shadows of two men stood at the entrance that led onto a quaint thoroughfare lined on both sides with covered fruit carts and the sounds of the nightlife of Singapore. The men were just standing there, preceded by what Will thought to be the indistinct yells of a drunken brawl.

His small informer looked edgy, he motioned franticly for Will to come closer. He rasped out a shaky whisper.

"The brethren, they say, will have visitors. My sources tell me that there may be an attempt to ambush the bay."

"By who?"

"Privateers…" He trailed off, his eyes widening at something directly behind Will. Two strong arms wrapped around Wills middle and tried to squeeze him in half. The small mouse of a man scrambled away into the darkness. And the arms of God knew what, lifted Will right of the ground. The man behind Will shook him violently, trying, it seemed, to dash his head against the bricks.

Will's arms were trapped at his sides. He couldn't reach his sword, his most effective weapon, and he was getting closer and closer to the wall with every jarring jolt that threatened to shake his head loose.

"It will be over soon." Said a slimy voice from the left, without an accent.

Will gritted his teeth, and kicked as hard as he could against the wall of the alley. He and his captor flew across the narrow space and smashed into the opposite wall with an oof" The man buckled and fell to ground his arms loosening their hold to fall limp at his sides. Will tried to shake of his dazed lethargy.

"Why you wretched…" The second man with the slimy voice tried to cleave Will's skull. Will rolled out from under the blow that started sparks on the wall, loosing his knife from his boot. His attacker cocked his arm for a second strike, but stopped short when his chest met unexpectedly with the cold blade of a perfectly smithed dagger. Will left it there, sticking out of the man as he gave a belabored little yelp and fell to the ground.

Will looked at his hands for a while, until it was so dark he could hardly see them. He had just stabbed that man. And he didn't have a drop of blood on him. It was so surreal. He felt sick to his stomach, and invigorated, and confused. He didn't feel like himself. He felt like someone that had been hiding, something that had come to life for that moment.

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so he bent down and looked at the men that lay dead and unconscious on the ground with horror and awkward fascination. They weren't Asian. In fact they were obviously English from their dress, and even they way the one had spoken.

Will reached into bigger mans pocket, feeling a bit like a thief of a vulture, and pulled out a piece of paper that he could not read in the light. He pocketed the paper, promising to look at it when he had found Elizabeth, but forgetting for a long time in the events that followed.

* * *

When Elizabeth and Will returned to the ship the headed in opposite directions, fearing that they might strangle on another if they kept within reach.

Will headed for the stern of the where he found Raggetti, Pintel, and Cotton's Parrot in avid conversation about the events of the day. Arguing about what exactly had happened and why. Will listened to their jabbering, and shook his head as the subject of the conversation became clear, and once again confirmed everything Will already thought of Jack. What a philanderer.

Elizabeth paced her cabin for a while, thoughts bubbling in her head, threatening to boil over. Foremost was thoughts of Will. They just couldn't communicate their thoughts and feelings. They just didn't understand each other. These things were soon overshadowed by other thoughts, mostly thoughts of Jack. But not the way Will thought she thought of Jack. She couldn't feel that way for Jack even if she wanted to. He certainly didn't feel that way about her.

She wanted to know how Jack always seemed to know what she was thinking, or feeling. Why he had changed so much, almost to the point of not being the Jack she knew, almost. She wanted to know what had happened, what had really happened in the Locker. Mostly, firstly of all, she wanted to know how she fit into it all. She wanted to push it aside as all a girlish fantasy, or delusions of grandeur, but Elizabeth couldn't help but think that she was intimately involved in whatever the trouble was. Some thing was going to happen, and she wanted to know how it involved her.

There was only one place that she knew she could find the answers. There were really two places, but she wouldn't dream of asking Jack in person, not with Will in the state of mind he was, and she couldn't imagine getting a straight answer even from this new more somber Jack. So her final and favorite choice by far was Tia Dalma. If you wished to know something of a deep and spiritual nature, and Tia couldn't help you then you were out of luck.

Elizabeth slipped out of her cabin, and spotted Will laughing and chatting with the crew like nothing had happened. "Men…" she hissed under her breath.

Tia wasn't at the helm, she was hiding in the head room, alone and pensive. She was staring of into space when Elizabeth entered the room. Tia gave Elizabeth a black toothed grin and said, "Elizabef, I been expecting you. Shut da door and sit down."

"You were expecting me? Somehow I am not surprised."

"Oh yes, I have been expectin this combersation for a long time now.'

Elizabeth laughed nervously, "That's great." She sank into a chair across from the voodoo priestess and wrapped her arms around herself. She was suddenly cold.

"Your question is a hard one to answer."

"I haven't asked it yet." Elizabeth pointed out, but Tia shrugged and continued.

"You wan' to know what 'as 'appened to Captain Jack Sparrow. You wan' to know what 'appened in de Locker. I can tell you but first you must tell me that you truly wan' to know. I do not offer some small fleeting truth that you can just forget. It is somefin deep and dark. Even dangerous for some."

"Who is it dangerous for?"

"You, firstly. You don't know what danger you have been in already by it. There are lots of enemies that, should they guess…" Tia trailed off.

"Who else."

"I would not doubt it is a danger to all them what is on board. But firstly it is dangerous to Jack himself, deathly dangerous to him."

Elizabeth felt very cold now. Did she really want to know? That was the question. Was this small, aching ignorance better than knowing what she had lived so long without? She swallowed her fear. Elizabeth had made up her mind a long time ago.

"I want to know."

* * *

Will tried to act light hearted, and join in the revelry, but he couldn't stop thinking about Elizabeth. He regretted everything he had said. Just because he had had a traumatic night, that was no reason to take it out on her. There was something else that was eating at the back of his mind, something he had forgotten.

He pushed his hands deep into his pockets and tried to think hard. His fingers found folded piece of paper. He drew it out. Memory instantly catching him up on what it was he had neglected to do. He moved out of the chummy circle of friends to read what he had found in privacy.

His eyes got gradually wider as he read through the entire thing. The contents become more and more alarming by the word. When he had finished he looked a bit like a startled fish, his eyes almost wider than was healthy. He stuffed the thing back in his pocket, and looked around. He had to find the captain. Where was that man?

* * *

The fist collided with the fat mans face. Along with the slightly slurred, "Anyone else want some?"

Norrington brought the mug to his mouth again, and drank down yet another swallow of ale. The Faithful Bride had run out of rum a long time ago. The tavern was filled from one wall to the other, with depressed drunken idiots ready to fight over anything.

The fat pirate backed away. He wasn't the first person to be decked by the bad tempered newcomer with the excellent sword on his belt.

The fat man retreated to his group of friends, all of the windblown persuasion and prodigious girth. They whispered amongst themselves and crouched close over the table.

James Norrington, again no longer a commodore, or a captain, or anything important quite frankly, had found his way back to Tortuga and crawled back into the bottle. He smiled sometimes to himself when he thought of the rotten irony of his life. He had been something once. A man with prestige. A commodore in the royal navy. Betrothed to be married to the most amazing woman he had ever met…and then he had lost it all…and gotten it back…and lost it again. He raised his eyes to the sky, actually the dusty rafters, and thought to himself, you are enjoying this aren't you?

Then he would sigh, take another drink or the watery ale and be in a totally new state of mind, quite ready to murder anyone that looked at him the wrong way. This was how the last several days had gone. Anamaria had been watching it from her own corner of the tavern. She was intrigued and repelled by the dirty ruffian that lent against the beam, sitting on a barrel and thrashing anyone that took fault with him. Her girls had been laughing at him privately. It was a nice bit entertainment, in their lackluster world, to watch this man who alternatively prayed and pummeled his fellow bar patrons.

Anamaria didn't find it funny; she found it out of place. This man wasn't mad, she new that much from his various showings of lucidity. However something had happened to him that had caused this change, she was sure, in his usual behavior. And with all the strange things happening, like the man with the information on the brethren. Then there were the others, the whole crew that had arrived, asking questions of a peculiar nature, concerning the locations of certain pirates, all sounding suspiciously familiar, and having left without saying a word. Now this man, and there had to me something to do with this whole mystery. She felt it.

She crossed the room coolly, fooled by the curious looks of her crew, and asked for to mugs at the bar. She dropped a coin or two on the counter and headed toward the solitary figure on the barrel, staring at the ceiling.

"Can I tempt you." She offered him a flagon.

"Less of a temptation than a necessity these days, wouldn't you say?" He took the cup without thanks and swallowed down a greedy batch of swigs.

"You are new here." She said trying to start the conversation.

"Or you are, I have been here before." He said in very good English. Anamaria smiled.

"I know pirates, and you are not one." He gave her a look that could kill.

"That is where you are wrong, my dear." He set down his drink with dangerous slowness and pulled back his sleeve. "I have been lately sealed. Isn't it lovely?" He showed her the pirates brand, the hideous red patch of burned skin that hadn't healed properly yet.

"I am one of you now." He said so that everyone could hear. "Drink up me hearties! Let's all be miserable together!"

"Shut up your mouth you drunk. hick" Yelled a man from the balcony, slobbering all over himself in a drink induced stupor.

"Mock us as much as you want," Added a nearly toothless man of thirty, carving at the corner of a table with his knife. "But you share our fate. Left to rot here of drink and despair, held captive by hostile waters."

"Don't talk to me about fate!" Norrington yelled in answer, then speaking to only Anamaria, "I could tell you stories of fate that would turn you stomach."

Anamaria looked at him intently, beneath the general grim and grief, he was a handsome man, with bright animated eyes. He intrigued her more than ever. "Tell me."

James Norrington, the pirate twice over, began a story of the sea, of piracy, and misery, and magic. He told the room a story of love, and stupidity. A blacksmith and the governors daughter. A witty pirate, and there was some cheering when he was named, that had trifled with forces to big for himself and won. Anamaria listened intently, this was what she wanted to know. "He won until his debt came due."

Then he talked about Davy Jones. As much as he knew. What he knew about the heart, and what he knew about the crew of the Black Pearl, "I don't know what happened to the ship. If Jack found a way to escape I would no longer be surprised. I do know that Elizabeth was with them, and the William Turner, rash, stupid, courageous William Turner won't stop until he stabs the heart of Davy Jones."

Up to this point the room had been almost totally silent. In Port Royal, if he had talked like this he would have been laughed out of the tavern, but these were pirates. They believed in the wonders the world had to offer…and its' horrors. And no class of people on earth respects and fears Davy Jones more than the ones that leaned forward in their seats and listened to him speak.

The man with the knife spoke again. "What good does this do us now? The East India Trade Company, has constructed, and is still building fleets of frigates to patrol the waters. Your story is useless as telling a dead man how he came to die."

"Not to mention," Anamaria noted with a cold-as-stone voice, "You have admitted to us that all this is in part your fault."

James laughed, a wild lunatic laugh. "What is then…you going to kill me? You think it matters to me?"

There was a steely silence, before he went on. "There is nothing you can do is there? Or is there? You cowardly pack of cutthroats, you wouldn't risk yourselves if your own mothers were in danger. What would you risk for your way of life?"

"So what do you suggest we do?" She asked him.

"This is your situation. You have two primary enemy forces readying themselves to eradicate you. You have about fifty ships in various conditions out there waiting for you in the bay. They have two-hundred ships, a sea monster, a cursed crew with a practically immortal captain. If you don't act you will die for certain and if you do you probably will anyway. Life is an amazing thing isn't it?"

"He is right. We are sitting around waiting for our own deaths!" Random members of the crowd began to shout various things.

"A meeting of the brethren has been called." Said one.

"Poppycock!"

"No it's true, they are readying a counter strike!"

"Aye!" Yelled several others.

"Can we afford to wait for them?"

"We have no choice."

"And what do we do?" Anamaria squared with the man before her and asked again, daring him not to answer.

"The only thing we can do. Prepare for war, and wait for a miracle."

* * *

Will knocked on the door as if he would bang it down. Jack debated with himself what Will's motives might be and whether it was wise, in the interests of self-preservation, to let his in.

"Jack, I know you are in there. Let me in!"

"I am not sure that is the wisest course."

Will sighed, "I have to talk to you, it's important."

"Can you talk to me without drawing your sword?" Jack placed his hand on the bolt.

"It isn't about that…it is something concerning the brethren." Jack pulled the door opened rather quickly, after that.

"Glad to hear it."

William entered the room and looked around. It was cleaner than he had expected, but there wasn't much there. One dresser sat against the wall, Jack's sword and pistol rested upon it, and at the other end of the room was the bed, where Jack sat down, and leaned against the wall. In his hands he held a bottle of rum, a full bottle of rum, and he made not attempt to pull the cork.

"What's on your mind?" Jack said, uninterested.

"I have come across some information concerning our voyage to the brethren." Will pulled out the paper. "When I was in town, I met a man who gave me information that I think you should hear."

"Is that so?" Jack stared off into space, musing.

"He said there was an effort to ambush the gathering of the brethren."

"Ha, I find that highly unlikely. The location is secret and the entrance to the bay is too narrow to bring in a large enough group of men to do any ambushing whatever, savvy?"

"That is what I thought too, but that is when I came across this." Will handed it to Jack, who looked down his nose at the folded paper, and set down his rum to look at it. His face became intense as he read what was written there.

"Where did you find this?"

"When I was speaking to my informant, two men snuck up behind and attacked me. After a struggle, I searched them and found this on the ones person." Jack went from intense to grim to flippant.

"Something like this could be easily forged, what we are looking at is likely no more than some kind of hoax, or coincidence."

Will asked, amazed, "You really believe that?" Jack did not. "Look at it!" Will swiped back the paper.

"Detailed description of you, me, and the rest of the crew, information on where we might be found, the price on all out heads dead or alive. This piece of paper amounts to a wanted poster, and a death sentence. Did I tell you who had it? To men, English men, that looked for all the world like any pirate I have ever seen."

"It means nothing Will."

"It has to mean something!" Will was getting agitated.

"Even if this is real, what does it do? You are on a pirate ship. Did you expect that we would be left all by our onesies, never challenged? We are fugitives, and as such we get a certain amount of unwanted attention. Nothing more than that."

"But they were English, what were they doing in Singapore?"

Jack raised his arms, "What were WE doing in Singapore?"

"All I am trying to say is, these weren't usual bounty hunters. And THIS…" Will held up the paper and pointed to the bit that explained the reward. "isn't a usual reward. What about the threat to storm the bay."

"Like I said, it is about as possible for them to storm the bay as it is for you to keep reign on dear Elizabeth." Jack's tone became bitingly sharp.

Will glared at him, his temper rising. "You stay away from her."

"Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't dream of meddling with your lass."

"What do you think you are playing at? She isn't just another random bar girl for you to trifle with, and toss aside." Will started walking out to the door.

"William, one of these days your innocent view of the world will fall away and you will see things as they really are. Pray you are ready for it, because it will be a rude awakening indeed." Jack slammed the hatch shut and fell back on to the bed to stare out the circular porthole, at that sight he hated so much.

* * *

Tia leaned across the table and patted her hand. "I knew you would."

"Tell me what happened to Jack. What did the Locker do to him? Why could I see his memories? Will he recover? How am I involved in…whatever is coming?" These questions answered would somehow make thing clearer. Maybe if she could understand what was wrong with Jack she could organize her own thoughts and feelings.

Tia Dalma leaned back in her chair, resting her elbow on the armrest, in the perfect storytelling attitude. Provided you were telling a story at a funeral, Elizabeth thought, from the expression on her face.

"To know the nature of dat thing which haunts Jack Sparrow, you must know the nature of his prison. Davy Jones' Locker be a place of mystery. You can hear one-hundred stories 'bout it, and they mayn't have a speck of truth between them. But there are two things that are de unchangeable truth. Firstly, the Locker is a prison of da mind, created for da special purpose of exploiting dat which will hurt you da most. Your prison is dat lonely darkness, your punishment is your own worst fears an' memories." Elizabeth tried to control her overwhelming guilt, and put her hand to her mouth. She had had a sheltered life for the most part. A rich father, and a good life had protected her from the cruelties of the world. If she had a nightmare, she didn't know what it would be.

"The second rule is unbendable. It fold into the nature of the place. Nothing can be removed from the locker without somefin of equal value being left behind."

Elizabeth thought about this for a long time, and Tia watched her carefully seeing the things begin to click into place in the girls mind. The more Elizabeth thought about it the more terrible it became. "That is so cruel."

"Cruelty is da purpose." Tia had grown dark, deathly like a burial dirge.

Elizabeth swallowed to ask her question, fearing it's answer more than any other. "The Edge Racer replaced the Pearl. I see than now. But we also took Jack away from that place. What did we leave behind for him?" Elizabeth had a queer feeling that it could have been anyone. She wouldn't have been surprised if it was her and she just hadn't realized it. Actually that would have answered some of her questions.

"I did not know exactly what would happen to Jack when he came back. I didn't know what would hurt him the most. I did, however have an idea of what manner of thing would be left behind. I wish now that I know how the Locker effected him, that it could have been different." Elizabeth felt half scared and half impatient to know what it was? What had happened? Tia continued.

"Jack Sparrow is a man of his own creation. He created a legend of himself, and others made it grow. He be expressed in his ship, the sea, his way of life." She smiled a little bit "Him way of doing only that what has benefit to him. Not caring about anyone but himself."

Elizabeth looked at the table in front of her. She didn't want to hear things like that. It was sad somehow.

"Him was happy that way, or at least content. Dat is, till he found something he wanted more, and couldn't have." Tia was intense again. "He ran away from this thing he cared for more than anything else. He didn't want to be tied down by it, he didn't ever want to be entangled by this…emotion again, but the memory pursued him. That, among other things."

"I don't understand any of this." Tia Dalma stared intently at Elizabeth in a silent moment as if to say, "What cruel dealing of fate involved you so intimately in this?"

"You have to understand that there were two parts to Jack Sparrow. On the day the Kraken attacked, against him better judgment he let his honest side win out."

Elizabeth nodded, "To save his crew, and his ship. But what does this have to do with anything?"

Tia gave Elizabeth an odd list but continued. "Everything, Elizabef. It were that what he lost…"

"What did he loose!?"

* * *

"Mercer, are the ships prepared?" Beckett was in a foul mood. He had taken it out on three tea cup this morning already, and the servants still expected to clean more glass from the floors of his study and mop up yet another cup full of his bitter tea.

"The fleet is nearly finished, the construction should be finished with in the week."

Beckett scribbled angrily at a peace of paper like he wanted to rip it in two with his quill. "And the offensive? When will we be ready to start that?"

"The crews have all been hired, the supplies are ready. We only await the completion of the final ships." Beckett took a fevered ship of his fourth cup of tea, which also happened to be the first one he had actually drunk.

"You may have noticed, Mercer, that I am a bit agitated of late." Cutler rattled his cup back into its place on the saucer.

"It did cross my mind, sir."

Beckett picked up several pages on his desk, bending them savagely. "Do you know what these are? This one is a request for funding for our expedition to Madagascar; I sent it to out offices in London. It was returned to me unopened, another message…this one…attacked to it saying that our operations in this region were not of high enough priority to merit more attention at this time." Beckett took another drink from his tea, and slammed the cup down hard enough to start a crack in the saucer.

"If this letter had been addressed from the governor it would have been opened immediately. Because to them, Port Royal is important when it comes to the aristocracy, the full blooded aristocracy, but not when the letter comes from a lowly agent. Someone who earned his rank, without being born into it." Beckett slammed the papers down on the desk, making his tea slosh out of the cup. He held up another page.

"This one, is a report from out scout ships. They keep getting disturbing information from the privateers we hired, something about a gathering of force by our enemies. Something called the brethren. Our friend Jack Sparrow is with them. You remember him don't you Mercer." Beckett's clerk rubbed his face like he could still feel the pain of the branding iron fracturing his cheekbone.

"Very well sir."

"Well, he has found his why into the Asian seas, and he has friends. And, if this is to believed, he is rumored to be preparing and attack of his own."

"They won't be able to muster enough man poor to defy us, My Lord."

"I sincerely hope you are right. Things would go very badly for all of us if that happened." Cutler's veiled threat didn't go unnoticed. He picked up the last sheet of paper, expensive, heavy stationary, as if it's words held some sort of communicable disease. "And this is from out mutual friend, Governor Swann. No longer will he stoop to coming before me to beg my aid for his daughter, he litters my deck with this trash." Beckett succeeded in swallowing the last gulp of tea without smashing the cup to pieces and started pacing.

"You realize that if it weren't for that muttering twit, I would be the next in line for the governorship. I already have more than enough power to control him, but he has all the prestige. He gets all the respect."

Mercer had been with Beckett long enough to see what he was driving at, "What do you suggest?"

"We are setting out for a great victory are we not? Extend to him an…adamant invitation to join us on Endeavor, for the coming voyage."

Mercer smiled his evil smile, "It is impossible to tell in battle. Should unexpected fighting break out, accidents could happen."

Beckett mirrored his morbid joy, "Exactly. Make it look clean; it would be better if no one ever found the body of the ex-governor. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Mercer nodded and backed out of the room.

Beckett felt marginally better, but he still threw his tea cup into the wall for good measure.

* * *

"What did he loose!?" Tia Dalma raised an eyebrow when Elizabeth raised her voice.

"If you don't understand Jack Sparrow you can never understand what the loss means." Tia tried to explain, but Elizabeth made it clear that her time was up.

"I am tired of these word games, or mind games, or whatever you are playing. Tell me, simply."

Tia Dalma wasn't pleased but she said, "To put it bluntly, Jack Sparrow has lost him love of the sea."

The concept took a while to sink in. Elizabeth tried to imagine Jack without the sea, or the sea without Jack, but the idea was ludicrous.

"But what does that mean? Jack doesn't care about the sea anymore?"

"No, Elizabef, he can not help but think of it, and wish to be near it. He can remember what it was like to be free and what it was like to love the sea but he cannot love it." Elizabeth gave Tia a quizzical look and the agelessly sarcastic figure sighed with exasperation. "You been in love right?"

Elizabeth nodded, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Imagine if you can, all the longing and heartache, them most acute of painful sensations. All the things that let you know you're in love, all but the joy you can take in dat thing of your affections. Or even the consolation that you love dat ting in spite of da pain. It is so wif Jack. He can remember what it was like to be free, and though he still has his pirates life, his ship, and the sea to sail he can take no joy in them."

"That is terrible, I understand what that would do to Jack…" Elizabeth did.

Tia finished the thought, "It is destroying the rest of him slowly. No matter what happens when you made a deal with the Dutchman there is no way to win."

"But you spoke of danger. The danger to Jack I see, if he is, in fact losing a little of himself at a time, but where is the danger to us and the crew."

"Part of what was Jack's greatest fault was also him greatest strength. Him ability, and an ability it were, to think of himself to the exclusion of all others was him strength. It is hard to threaten a man that has not but himself to care 'bout. But you know I and know, we have seen it, his honest side, what you might even call his selfless side. He no longer cares what happens to him or him Pearl. He no longer cares to live anymore."

"So that day on the ship, when we were attacked. Jack really had no intention of coming back did he?'

Tia shook her head. Elizabeth carried the thought on a step further. To think this had been the question she had wanted to ask weeks ago, even before they had saved him, though with different intentions. What were those intentions? "Jack Sparrow can't love?"

Tia Dalma frowned more deeply. "What he has, he cannot love. And what he loves, he cannot have. That is the manner of his curse."

She imagined how horrible something like that would be, but she couldn't think of a thing that Jack loved but couldn't have. "I don't understand."

Tia Dalma continued in an off-handed manner. "Good, tis better that way. Safer."

"You're making it worse. I don't know how I am involved here. Why is it safer that I don't know? Why could I see his memories? What is the connection between us even now?"

"To da first question, I will not answer it. If fate dictates that you should know then you will discover it. Though, I feel sorry for him when you do. Poor William." Tia pressed forward before Elizabeth could ask another question. "To da second I have an answer for you. You and Jack be connected, you could hear his memories and he in turn could see you even from where he was. You think that that dream you had of him were a coincidence. Him and you got somfin doin' between you, unfinished business. When you find what dat may be the connection is broken."

"But my connection to him is broken. I don't see his dreams anymore, I can't hear his thoughts, or feel what he is feeling."

Tia grinned so widely that she showed all of her black teeth, "Your connection to him may be broken Mrs. Turner, but his to you were another story." She laughed. Elizabeth got red in the cheeks.

"You mean…all this time he could…and he never said a word!" Elizabeth stood up from her chair and looked like she might begin pacing the room. Or she might just scream her exasperation and be done with it. But something gave he pause. "What did you call me?"

"Dat will be your name soon, will it not? I were trying it on for size. Do you think it fits you?"

That night Elizabeth Swann, soon to be Mrs. William Turner, didn't sleep well at all.

* * *

They set sail the following morning, after a long time of haggling with some of the merchants at the port, and a bit of discussion with Sao Feng and his subservient captains. It was decided that the Asian ships would lead the way to the Heron's Neck, because it was a passage, though seldom traveled, well known to them.

Elizabeth and Will kissed and made up early the next morning amidst a veritable rain storm of apologies and empty promises. They ended their reunion with a peck on the cheek, then move as fast as they could to another part of the ship to avoid another fight. Elizabeth's glances kept slipping to Jack, and then she would feel guilty about it. But she couldn't help it. He was more interesting than ever now, and even more tragic. Ever time her eye's chanced to stray in his direct she found him running his hand along the railing, or staring intently and, she saw now, with profound sadness at the green-blue waves.

She almost went to speak to him several times but she couldn't. She was trying to prove something to someone. She didn't know what or who.

The traveling was easy. The weather was fair. But the crew milled about uneasily. Something was very wrong with the sea, even Elizabeth felt is, even Will felt it. Jack was the only one that seemed completely oblivious. It took only one more day to reach the entrance to the passage. It was less of an entrance than a gaping maw poised to devour them.

Jack laid his hand expertly on the helm, which Tia relinquished willingly. "If anyone has a mind to wish us good luck, it can't hurt." Jack gritted his teeth, and led them unto the narrow opening that showed its' teeth to them in a sinisterly inviting grin.


	8. Chapter 12

**(Chapter Twelve)**

**Allies in Spite of Themselves**

Shadows swallowed the ship, and silence fell over the crew. It was like they had been frozen in place either looking ahead and grimacing at the sharp rocks or holding their breath and watching Jack take them through.

The captain still had his touch. They glided unscathed through impossibly small spaces, and still no one said a word.

Tia Dalma stood at the railing looking out at the serrated rocks around them, and Elizabeth leaned against the railing, watching the crew and captain hold their collective breaths waiting for the sound of rock against wood. The Black Pearl was a galleon, not meant for squeezing through a place like this.

"How does he get it back?" Elizabeth whispered, it didn't seem right to speak at a normal volume, besides is she did every one would hear her.

"Gid what back?"

"Jack…" She whispered even more quietly. "Is there a way to get back, what he lost."

Tia Dalma shrugged. "Dere is not much hope of that."

Elizabeth was shocked. All along the way there had always been something that could be done. Her life was like a fairy tale, there was always a glass slipper, a compass, a piece of cursed Aztec gold, a chest that contained a still beating heart. No matter what happened that had to be a way to set it right, there just had to be, because Jack couldn't stay this way forever.

"There is some chance then, we can do something right?" Tia didn't answer. "How much hope is there?"

"None at all."

The Heron's Neck hooked around and opened into gigantic bay bordered by black pine trees all around. The thing was, you could barely see the trees, or the water. The bay was packed on end to the other with tightly placed ships, their mast all mixed up in the sky. It was like a floating forest without leaves, bobbing up and down. They could walk to shore simply by jumping deck to deck.

Most of the men were left behind to guard the ship, among them were Cotton and his parrot, who didn't protest at being left behind except for one or to screeches of "Off with her head!" from the bird. Pintel and Raggetti chose to stay behind when they heard there would be a long hike to reach the meeting place, though the presence of the monkey in the party that planned to leave might have greatly influenced Raggeti's decision. Jack considered the rest a liability and ordered them to stay out of the rum, which they all knew he hadn't touched in days.

When anchor was dropped and all war prepared the crew started skipping across the water jumping from this ship to that.

It was a steep climb up the forest path. The path, hardly visible anymore, was over grown and rocky, but there were signs that some other parties had been up this way. Tia said that there was a wider path down the other side, it was a smoother walk, but this way we the quickest with a small group.

Somehow in the trip through the pass and into the bay the Pearl and Sao Feng's ships had been separated. It had been impossible to pick out those three ships in the grouping that filled the bay.

Will helped Elizabeth when he could, holding out his hand to pull her up steeper inclines. But Elizabeth was getting used to this sort of thing now. She hardly need his help at all. Soon, he thought, she will even out do me with the sword.

Gibbs told stories in the hour they walked up the path, about the founding of the brethren, the three great pirate fleets of old, and a ghost story or two about the black forest. No one was listening very closely, each one had their thought in a different place.

Will was busy scheming, a thousand battles, strategies, and scenarios running through his head. Even though he couldn't imagine where his father was now, or think of all the time it would take to get back to him, somehow being here in this place of planning was enough. He tried to force himself to take notice of Elizabeth, he didn't want to ignore her, or neglect her, but they were still in that stage of licking your wounds that comes just after the fight.

Elizabeth kept her eyes on her footing, careful that she didn't slip. She let her mind concentrate on that, and she whistled "A Pirate's Life for me". She was aware of the people around her. Tia leading the party, Gibbs babbling close behind, Will walking close enough beside her that everyone in a while his sleeve would brush against her arm. Then there was Jack walking just behind her, his eyes on the path ahead of them, moving easily over the tricky terrain.

Jack could stop think about…what he had been thinking about since forever is seemed. He couldn't think straight about where they were going, or what they would do when they got there. He couldn't even concentrate on the feeling he had that they were being watched from somewhere in the trees.

Tia Dalma looked to all the world like her full attention was on the road ahead of them. But her mind worked away, in a hundred directions at once. She kept careful tabs on the young couple, and Jack that walked behind. She even found time to correct little details in Gibbs' tale.

"It were blue." She said to him.

"What?"

"The ghost, she wears a blue silk dress the same color as her eyes."

"Oh, yes that's right."

A fiendish grin spread across her features and an idea formed in her head. "William, scout ahead, you are faster than me. Tell me if dere is a flat place we may rest at."

Will nodded and rushed off. Jack looked up at Tia's playful expression. What was she up to now? She was up to no good for certain. The voodoo priestess stopped for a second, and bent down, as if to loose a rock from her shoe. Dalma's fingers brushed one of the flat bits of stone that made up what was left of the stair path they climbed, and then continued on after Will.

No one but Jack had noticed this. Elizabeth trudged along, three or four steps ahead of Jack, but when she reached the step Tia Dalma had stopped on, she slipped and fell backwards right into Jack, who looked up just in time to catch her. Elizabeth yelped embarrassingly, and Jack was so startled he just held her there for a second and wondered what to do next, and if this was actually a bad situation after all.

Elizabeth ordered what was left of her dignity and gave a hand to help her to her feet. Their eyes met for a little while, Elizabeth very red in the cheeks now, and Jack's smirking wasn't helping.

In the awkward moment Elizabeth couldn't think of anything to say but the first thing that she had noticed. "Your hands are cold." She and Jack let go of each other at the same moment. His hands WERE cold, freezing. She looked at him worried.

Jack sounded disinterested "Are they?"

"Are you feeling well?" Elizabeth let a little more of her real concern into her voice than she would have liked.

"Fit as a fiddle, love." He smiled at her reassuringly, in a way that didn't convince her.

"Are fiddles sea worthy?"

"Not at all." He gestured for her to go ahead of him. Elizabeth took the next few steps very carefully as if she might slip again. She would rather die than slip again and have Jack smirk at her.

Jack paused at the step where she had fallen and examined it. He breathed a short laugh, and looked up at Tia with a raised eyebrow. She winked at him.

The step where Elizabeth had fallen was cover, inexplicably, with ice.

* * *

It didn't take them too much time after that to reach the summit. There they found an ancient building of the oriental persuasion, an arena as it turned out. Milling all about the mildly warm peak were vagrants and ragamuffins of every kind, and nationality. It was another island full of pirates, but unlike Tortuga, no one looked happy to be there. 

Jack frowned at the sight. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the few passersby and gauging the level of hostility. Will thought out loud. "Where do we go from here? Do we go in? And if so what do we do from there?"

"We don't have any choice but to go in, after that either our course will present itself, or this will be a very short trip indeed." Jack seemed a bit nervous, they all noticed, and that boded ill for them if they knew anything at all about Jack Sparrow.

The building was big and foreboding, the eaves reaching out in wide stretching eves, like the skirt of a squat cross woman. Near the base the building was made of huge stone bricks, which dissolved into wood and plaster higher up, where and addition had been made at a latter time. The stones were two feet by four feet in length, and nearest to the double wide entrance their surfaces were carved with intricate pictures of ships and sea monsters and the ocean. Some of them recognized it as a crude form of a history, or an eccentric form of art. Imagine decorating the front of your manner house with your family history, painted out in intricate detail. Elizabeth ran her fingers over the notches and grooves and tried to decipher one of the pictures.

Tia swept by her and into the arena, proceeded only by Jack. Inside they saw that the floor slopped downwards in terraced levels like and amphitheater with a stone slap as the stage in the center. There were also places above them where one might sit, a point that was made clear by the ruckus from all sides. In the center of the room, on the stage, stood a man with graying hair and a face that had been carved out from a rough life at sea. His slanted eyes were wise and softened by time. His hair was long and silvery white, braided behind him and coming to a shape point in his beard. He spoke in a voice that resonated through the stadium with amazing clarity.

No one in the party but Jack and Tia understood what was being said. What ever he said was then translated by a hundred mouths each to his neighbor, in a din that was incomprehensible. Then the crowd would erupt with responses and random frantic yells of agreement or decent. Jack mirrored Tia's pensive look and remained silent. Elizabeth sidled up beside him and asked, "What are they saying?"

"Something to the effect that the sea has turned against them and that something must be done and that that is why we are here."

Elizabeth nodded, this all seemed rather elementary. The aged man on the stage raised his hands and silence fell again. Apparently there was some etiquette that governed when a pirate should speak and when they should listen. Set down in their infernal code no doubt. The man on the stage continued to speak. Elizabeth prompted Jack to translate.

"He is talking about the condition of the sea. He says that it is less of a condition of the sea than a condition of the heart of men." Jack was darker than Elizabeth had seen him in a long time. "He says it is not a matter of poor seas, and rough waters. What has been lost has been lost by us not the sea, stolen from us."

"And what is that?" Jack grinned bitterly, but he didn't seem to be able to put it in words.

"What do we do from here?" Will asked from behind them. "We did have a plan for when we finally arrived, right?"

"Our opportune moment hasn't presented itself, and I don't feel inclined to present my back as an ease target for various knives." Jack's eyes flicked nervously from one direction to another looking for shadows to lurk in.

There was a longish lull in the speech on stage, the men sitting on the stadium's stone benches all around began to murmur loudly, discontented. Gibbs politely ushered their small party to secluded portion of the uppermost ring of benches in the arena. Jack found a support beam to hide behind. He rested his head against the plastered wall and closed his eyes as he listened.

Elizabeth sat a couple rows lower down and leaned forward to get a better look at the stage below. The platform had four sets of stairs that lead to it, one on each side. The man began to speak again and she strained to understand him only to realize that she didn't speak a word of whatever language he was speaking.

Will stood, uncomfortable in this place for the rather bizarre reason that he was too comfortable in this place. He tried to be secluded even in the grumbling crowd, and watched the man dressed in white down below them gesture franticly trying to emphasize whatever point he was making.

Elizabeth alternatively watched the body language of the elder that addressed the gathering, and tried to gage the reaction of the crowd in an effort to divine out what it was he was saying. Gibbs seemed to understand snatches of conversation, and Tia Dalma stared fiercely, nodding and tracing her jaw line with her fingernail.

The fatherly figure on the stage lowered his upraised arms, finally, seeming to have finished his dialog. There was a disturbance and the base of the farthest set of stairs, on of the men who stood at the base, also dressed in white and apparently guarding the elderly figure who had been speaking a moment before, was pushed aside and several darkly clad men, in long traveling coat ascended the platform. The one who had made the speech didn't seem alarmed. He nodded respectfully to the foremost figure, and stepped aside. The leading man's face was in shadow but he wore an almost ridiculously large hat, and Elizabeth squinted to get a better look at him, she knew she should be recognizing something, but it took her a moment to place it. Tia Dalma stiffened visibly when she saw what was happening, she hadn't wanted to see this man again, but all her visions always came true, one way or another.

It clicked suddenly in Elizabeth's mind when she was distracted from a very dirty exclamation from behind her.

"What the hell is he doing here!" Jack had obviously opened his eyes to see what was going on. He didn't like what he saw, who he saw, and he especially didn't like the monkey that jumped up on the shoulder of the man below. "It seems we will have our lurking and watching cut short."

"Good." Will said, "I hate lurking." Jack glared at him, in a vindictive look that said, "Can you guess what I hate more than you hate lurking?"

But neither of them had a chance to say anything, and it was good too because it was likely that all they would do is insult one another and eventually come to blows. Jealousy would do that. They were interrupted by a voice that carried to them and issued from the stage. It was a deep and menacing voice, yet gentile in it's own perverse was. He spoke with rather drawn out words, but in perfectly clear English. "You gents what do know the source of your problems? You all remember Captain Jack Sparrow?" Barbossa cackled and took a juicy bite form his apple.

A disconcerting number of people DID remember Jack Sparrow and from the look and Jack's face, it probably wasn't in a good way. Jack looked like he wanted greatly to run away. However, he just placed his thumb and index finger on bridge of his nose closing his eyes tightly as if he had a terrible headache and started to walk down toward the stage. Elizabeth and Will exchanged looks with Gibbs and Tia, they all shrugged and followed. The uproar the ex-captain had caused with his words, stopped as Jack walked down the isle. Silence spreading out from the people close enough to see him and then changing to a whispering exclamation as they passed the information around the room.

"Why thank ye Jack, would you save me the trouble of explaining the recent events? I am sure you can better tell them than I." Barbossa smiled spitefully. Jacks group gathered behind him. Jack did an excellent impression of beneficence, smiled back.

"No, no, I insist, do continue and I will fill in the little details you miss." Barbossa snorted and turned back to the crowd.

"Like all stories it is better to start at the beginning. No so many years ago, through a series of events that in some way relate to this very problem, Jack Sparrow lost his ship. He had no other place to turn, and so he called on that devil of the seas, Davy Jones, and traded him his hundred years of service for the captainship of a galleon called the Black Pearl." Jack winced at the memory, it was an act of desperation. There was the inaudible sound of horrified awe as Barbossa spoke. "In the years that followed, Jack was a little less keep to spend the rest of his miserable life serving on the Dutchman." Elizabeth thought she heard someone snicker. "When his debt came due, he devised a fool hearty plan to steal the heart…" Jack cut him off.

"Aha, I have found an inaccuracy! My plan was brilliant, genius." Barbossa gave him a crusty look. "You couldn't have thought of it." Jack mumbled.

Barbossa turned to face him, "May I continue?"

"Go right ahead."

"Thank you…Jack devised a plan to steal the heart of Davy Jones and barter his freedom using the heart as his bargaining chip. However, Jack didn't count on how many other people would be after the heart." Barbossa gave Will a meaningful look. "Not least among them was the East India Trading Company and our very own Cutler Beckett." The crowd loosed a barrage of boos and catcalls, put quieted down again and looked expectantly to the stage for more. They were like children enraptured by the storyteller's words. Elizabeth was impressed in spite of herself.

"Though that may explain the heavily armed EITC fleet that is under construction, but how does this have anything to do with the indisposition of the sea." A portly character in finer cloths than you find on most pirate's backs, sitting nearer the stage, stood and spoke with a slight accent, it might have been Irish. Will looked at Barbossa in alarm. What fleet were they talking about? Barbossa was glowering at the man.

"I was coming to that."

"You're being bloody slow about it, mate." Elizabeth didn't know how Jack could be so flip with so many eyes watching, and so many cutthroats fingering their knives, ready to skin him. Jack wasn't as calm as he sounded. He may have lost many things but he could feel fear just fine, thank you very much. He could also cover it up as well as he ever did. "Shall I continue for you?"

"Since that is what you seem to have intended all along go right ahead. It seems unlikely that I will be able to continue with being int…"

Jack cut in, and Barbossa crossed his arms in the perfect posture to look down his nose at Jack with unconcealed contempt. "Good then, where were we… As Barby, was saying so eloquently I managed to concoct an excellent plan that was working perfectly until certain significant parties." Will was the victim of another meaningful look. Jack loved to watch him squirm, "Including the East India Company, what wanted the heart to control the sea. Which through a series of unforeseeable circumstances, which are in a very limited way and it isn't at all what you might think, related to me…they now do." Jack said the last three words very quietly hoping the maybe, just maybe only the old and feeble pirates in the room, the ones that had no grudge whatever that they had been holding on to for a number of years, letting it fester an become even more bitter. But something about the room carried his nearly whispered words to the farthest corners of the room, which erupted with such a violent hail storm of shouts, so Elizabeth had to cover her ears.

Jack raised his hands much like the elderly monk like man had, and to the surprise of everyone, including the crowd, the crowd quieted. "That isn't the end of the story. Our heart was lost, and soon there after I went down with my ship." Elizabeth closed her eyes; she thought for one terrible moment that Jack might tell the whole story. The kiss, the shackle, the Kraken, and the rescue. She didn't want to hear it; she didn't want to think that she might have been involved in this sad strange tragedy. Jack didn't bring it up, he skipped that part of the story, as much for her benefit as hers. He didn't want to remember it either.

"After I was brought back we heard of this gathering and I said to myself, 'we may have hope yet.' And we came like bats out of hell, racing our way to find you here." The crowd mumbled amongst themselves and the fat Irishman spoke.

"What is your plan, Captain Sparrow, other than presenting a lovely target for a thousand pistols? Do you have a plan?"

"Of course I have a plan! I always have a plan. What a question, the very idea is preposterous." Jack grinned wickedly. "What is your name anyway?"

"Captain Brendan O'Reily." Jack nodded.

"Ah, a captain, frightening. What's your ship Irishman?" Jack was being friendly, Elizabeth got the distinct impression the he rather liked this portly redhead, with outlandish lace cuffs.

"Umm…"The man faltered for the first time. "The Irishman."

"Aha! Just as I feared. You are suffering form "Doubting Irish Captain of a Ship with a Redundant Name Syndrome" Fear not, you see you mayn't be familiar with my long history , but let me assure you. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. I have everything under control, planned down to the minutest detail." Elizabeth and Will stifled twin laughs. Gibbs nodded, looking so convicted it was sick.

Jack looked around like he had been momentarily dazed, "Where was I?"

"The plan." Barbossa rolled his eyes, and the monkey screeched agreement.

"Well, it is really very simple. Sail back to Tortuga and mount up a counter attack." Skepticism colored the faces of the onlookers.

"That's it?" Someone yelled.

"The actual attack will likely take a little more time to hammer out, but that is the brass tacks of the thing."

"But the sea is still against us!" Several people yelled form opposite sides of the room.

Jack raised his eyebrows. He looked down at his feet, and rested his hands on his hips. "You have a good point there, I overlooked that. Tell you what, those of you what want to stay here, by all means stay. I heard there is a tasty kind of white monkey that lives in the forest. Me crew and I are going to sail out of here and head for our friends in Tortuga, and try to win back our sea from the devil, savvy?" An uncharacteristic silence fell. Jack and his group look out at the crowd and waited, almost daring someone to challenge him. "The rest of you come with me. How many fleet captains do we have here?"

Glances were thrown from the left to the right. About fifteen men stood from among their groups. "Good, you men come here and I will line out the details for you. And you too, the red head in the circus coat." O'Reily gave Jack and wry smile.

* * *

Elizabeth, Will and Gibbs drifted off after a few minutes of exclusion. They were neither commodores nor captains, so they weren't invited to the discussion that took place on the dais. Will was furious, it was all he could do not to storm of into the woods and start taking it out on a tree with his sword. Weeks of worrying wondering and traveling and he wasn't even allowed to take part in the planning that might very well determine the fate of his father. Elizabeth went and sat on one of the pew like stone benches. She didn't hear anything but that didn't stop her from hoping that she might. Jack looked so intense as he knelt down in the midst of the group and mapped out some hasty plans with his fingertip on the stone. 

Gibbs trusted his captain completely, most of the time. This wasn't the rare exception to the rule. He informed Elizabeth first, that he was heading back to the ship and informing the crew and checking their supplies, then he went to tell Will. The first mate found him leaning against the wall with his head down, and his eyes closed, massaging away the stress from his temples. Gibbs told Will where he was going, and Will offered to go with him. Anything to keep him occupied at this point was worth the physical labor involved.

"We'll gather up a party and haul extra drinking water to ship, save ourselves at least one stop on the way." Will chewed his lower lip doubtful.

"How does Jack plan to reach Tortuga before it is destroyed by the afore mentioned EITC fleet." Gibbs was glad to get to explain something. He had a secret, or not so much, love of storytelling.

"Well, with a knowledge of secret ports and a conjured wind, who knows how much time we can cut from our voyage. There is a tale told by the natives of an island called Tutwandi…" Will groaned inwardly, cursing himself for having expected a short answer and followed Gibbs down the path.

Inside Jack struggled to get his point across. He explained what he purposed was simple. His ship would lead out form the Heron's neck and wait in the open water for the others to follow. From there when the ships were gathered they would hug the African coast heading south, then straight on to Tortuga.

Sao Feng was there. He thought hard and then spoke. "I can follow the coast well enough but there is still the chance of storms, what happens should a ship become separated in unfamiliar waters?" Jack furrowed his brow.

"Does anyone have any parchment? Stationary?" Some one offered him a wrinkled peace of paper that looked like it had spent the golden years of its life in a damp pocket, but Jack smoothed it out and pulled out a stick of charcoal and began to mark out a rough chart on the page. One man offered to run and grab some more pages, a very polite bunch of pirates they were. Very accommodating when their lives hang in the balance. Jack did several quick calculations in his head and scribble longitudes and latitudes in the corner of the page. In the end the leaf was a rough map plotting a course around the African content and then marking out the location of Tortuga and the current they would be following.

O'Reily piped up in his almost lyrical drawl, "If it true that the EITC has begun construction of a fleet, with the express purpose of wiping out Tortuga, than what possible chance do we have to reach them with aid before they are wiped of the map so to speak? That's a lot of water."

"That's where you come in." Jack said, speaking to Tia. "We need wind, a steady wind and a strong current to carry us along." Tia gave Jack a sly look. "You can do it?"

"Wad do you thing?" Jack laughed, and moved on. He examined his page closely and said, "All factors accounted for I give us three months, and we will reach Tortuga." There was a contemplative silence while each captain decided if that would be cutting it too close. Would they reach port and find the town gone, their friends and friendly enemies dead. It was still an amazing figure. They wondered if it was possible to cross so much water with so many ships in such a short time.

The man who had run for the paper returned, he seemed to have brought enough to give a chart to each captain in the bay. The stringy man set the pages down beside the first and looked at Jack expectantly, one down 200 to go. Jack raised both eyebrows in amazed disgust, "Are you crazy?"

Tia cackled in a becoming way and gathered up the pages from the floor, placing the chart face up on the top. She tapped them against the ground three times, and gave the stack back to Jack. He took of the top page and smiled, he flipped through the stack just to be sure. All of the pages were exact copies of the chart on the top, down to the smudged thumb print he'd left in the corner. "Useful." He nodded his thanks to Dalma. Then addressed several of the captains, "You, take these and have them passed around to the crews. Remember that when stopping to collect supplies not to break of in too large of groups, avoid as much attention as you can, and remember that it is a long trek through open water before Tortuga, savvy?" He split the stack into three parts and gave one pile to Feng, one to O'Reily, and one to an oily man called Dorsal. The commodores delegated the responsibility to several underlings, who scurried off to give a chart to each captain and crew.

The meeting between Jack and captains lasted for another hour or more. They would set sail before dark, they decided. They would move out in groups of ten or more ships, for safety. The last ships coming no more than a day behind. One by one the captains drifted off. Elizabeth still watched, but she was dozing, tired from the climb and sitting on the hard bench. She decided to go for walk before she fell asleep. Soon only Tia, Sao Feng, Barbossa, and Jack were left on the stage, and then just Jack, Tia and Barbossa when the Asian captain decided he should go and rouse his crew.

Tia stood in a cold contemplative silence, but Jack turned to Barbossa and said, "How did you get here anyway?"

"I had no intention of missing the meeting of the brethren. I expected you sooner Jack. I've been here for two days." Jack thought of the events of the past few days and said that they were delayed.

"You got a ship then?" Jack was suspicious as he was always suspicious of this man. But now more than ever, as he was here inexplicably, and he had known that Jack had arrived. What sort of allies did he have?

"I found myself a mercenary crew and as long as they are paid their happy." Jack looked at him sideways.

"How do you afford such a wage?" Jack was always interested when there was money involved.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" They spent some time glaring at each other. There was one thing at least that they could be honest about. They both loathed the very core of the other, and they weren't too proud to admit it. Barbossa broke into a yellow toothed grin. "That's no way to be. We're allies aren't we?" Barbossa bowed and Jack winced. The former captain of the Black Pearl turned toward the door, whispering, "For now." Under his breath.

Jack repressed a snarling insult and looked at Tia. Something was upsetting her. He had known her long enough to recognize that brooding look she got, like a pot ready to boil over. Before Jack could ask what it was that was bothering her she looked at him and said, "Don't lose track of her." She spoke in a low urgent tone. It would be madness not to heed what she said. Something bad was going to happen.

Jack looked sharply in Elizabeth's direction, but she was gone. The bench where she had sat was empty. Jack looked back to Tia…but she had disappeared as well, without a trace. "Bugger!" He said to no one, and they didn't bother to answer.

* * *

Will must have left without her. Elizabeth was hard pressed not to give a tree a solid kick in frustration. Jack was still talking, he showed no sign of ever stopping, and she was alone in the clearing wondering what she should do. Back to the ship. That was what she decided. No use in waiting here. She started walking down the path, the heels of her boots clicking on the stone steps. She never saw the shadowy figures that lurked in the sinister dark of the trees. 

If you have ever felt that prickling sensation on the back of your neck, the one that says, "I'm being watched." If you have ever walked just a little faster up a dark flight of stairs, or through a hallway. If you have ever felt that subtle, indefinable, terror that tells you that something evil is lurking just beyond you line of vision, then you know emphatically what it was that made Elizabeth Swann pause on the steps and look behind her.

If she hadn't looked she might have been safe. If instead she had gone with her first instinct and ran irrationally down the mountain side. Maybe then nothing that happened next would have happened. It is possible that there could have been a happier ending for some of our characters. But that is not what happened. Elizabeth turned around to look down the path behind her. She tried to shake the unreasonable fear she had of the shadows. She knew that there was something wrong, but we never listen to those feeling. She took two more steps forward, her mind finally placing a finger on what was missing. Why had all the birds gone silent?

A grip like a vice closed itself around her shoulder. She didn't even have time to scream, before a large hand covered her mouth, choking her with the sharp and rusty smell of blood.

* * *

It took Jack all of three seconds to jump from the dais and run out into the empty clearing. All the ghost stories he had ever heard suddenly seemed a little more reasonable. The silence was eerie. The wind had even given up on rustling the leaves. Jack spun in place looking in all directions, but there was nothing. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen, nor was anyone that might have seen her. If someone had wanted to kidnap her and drag her into the forest, or worse, it was very likely that she would never be found again. 

Something in the back of Jack's mind warned him that he didn't have much time left, maybe none at all.

* * *

Elizabeth fought hard not to faint. She wanted very much to faint. She had been accosted by two men. The one that had grabbed her had pin to a tree with one hand and held a silvery knife with serrated edges to her throat. He seemed to be taking his orders from the other, bigger man. His skin was darkly tanned, and he wore a hat with a broad brim that shadowed his face. He had blood on his fingers. 

The shadowed man slide the cool of the blade over her cheek, it made her shiver. "Is this the one Erik?" Elizabeth took her attention of the man with the knife to look at the other man, Erik. He was even more dangerous, the arbiter of her future. Erik had a large flat nose that had been broken several times. His face was disfigured by a huge blackish bruise, it looked recent. He had been in a bad scuffle. His arm hung across his chest in a dirty cloth sling, probably broken.

Erik looked at her through his blackened eyes and said, "Yes, this is the one. This is the blacksmith's trollop."

Elizabeth had been silent but she suddenly found her tongue, "If you do anything to hurt me Will will kill you." She couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Quiet girly, lest you want us to make it slower." The shadowy one slid the knife lightly against her throat, it was razor sharp. Even the light pressure on the white skin drew blood that trickled down her neck. She took a shuttering gasp of a breath and was silent. Fighting these men didn't even occur to her panic stricken mind, not that it would have done any good. The big man had drawn a gun, pointing it at the space between her eyes.

"Your paramour already had a chance for that."

"You think the others took care of the boy?"

Erik nodded. "I don't think that that tired old crew stood much of a chance. I doubt any one of them knows which end of the sword goes up." The Shadow laughed, holding the knife under Elizabeth's chin to keep her from moving and looked at his figures.

"Ha, that one certainly didn't." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, the blood was still wet, and asked "Where is the captain though? He is the one we are supposed to get; the girl and the blacksmith are just pocket change."

"We'll ambush him when he starts back for his ship." Were they talking about Jack? Were there more of these men? What did they want? What had they done with the crew?

She tensed and the Shadow gave her his attention, his eyes glinting under his hat. "It seems a shame though. She is a lovely thing." He leaned forward putting his free hand on her waist and breathed deeply, smelling her hair. Elizabeth shuddered, someone help me please, she thought.

"No time for games, Lister." Erik put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Kill her and let's go."

"Beckett wanted proof didn't he?" Lister smiled and evil smile, and tangled his fingers in her hair. "A lock of hair perhaps?" Lister was leaning so close to her that she could smell his rancid breath. His breath was hot, but Elizabeth felt cold all over.

"He won't believe a lock of hair, cut of a finger. The one with the wedding band on it... Someone's coming! Slit her throat." Erik ran into the trees, his gun still raised.

Lister smiled a vampire like smile. Elizabeth screamed. Blood stained the front of her white line shirt, showing just as dark against her skin.

* * *

Will kept his eyes on the ground mostly; he heard the scuffing of boots coming down the path behind him. Gibbs was leading the way, talking about a man named Mallory and his ship the Lady Trotter…or possibly a man named Trotter and his ship the Lady Mallory. He didn't really care. Elizabeth hadn't even cared that he left, and that was all he was able to think of. Maybe he was reading too much into it… 

Will stopped, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He turned around and looked at the sky through the branches of the trees. The sky was almost black with the beating wings of a forest full of frightened birds. Flying out to see, spooked by something big. Will looked back down the path. Several buccaneers pass them, but they didn't seem startled. Gibbs looked at him in confusion. Will gripped the handle of his sword tightly and pointed up.

Gibbs was visible upset. His story forgotten, he waved for Will to follow him fast. The reached the bay in record time and took the pear in three strides, jumping from deck to deck like the startled spirits of Jack rabbits.

Something took over Will. His feral side, his animal side. He ran with speed he didn't know he had. He didn't know why, but he knew that he had to make it back to the ship. Before something happened, something bad.

He jumped to the black deck of the Pearl, panting for breath. Tia was standing there, wide eyed and worried. "You saw my messengers den?" she pointed to the birds.

He nodded and then looked at her again more closely. "How did you get hear before me?" Tia didn't answer. Gibbs had arrived, looking wild.

"By the powers! What's coming after us?" Will thought that Gibbs might have been criticizing his speed, but the question was addressed to Tia.

She didn't answer, the answer was already coming toward them. Twenty armed men, maybe more. Making their way across the ships. It was an ambush.

"Gibbs!" Will shouted pointing at them.

"I see them. On deck all hands!" Will saw everything at once, pirates pouring down the mountain side like filthy rain water, the storm rolling in at the other end of the bay, the bloodlust in the eyes of the approaching privateers, and the birds flying fast and hard toward the horizon. Will had been right. He cursed because he knew it. These were the men that had been sent after them, Lizzie, Jack and himself. Mercenary pirates legitimized by parchment, murderous by nature.

Will drew his sword, all the others lined up beside him, their swords drawn, as well. The entire crew stood their scared and fierce and ready for a fight, but their were very many of them. Even though Tia Dalma seemed to have conjured a sword out of thin air, it might have been Will's but he didn't look carefully, there were only ten of them counting him. Choy, the guide left by Sao Feng's men to help the Pearl through the Heron's neck if he might, had lined up too. He didn't seem to care that this wasn't his ship or his fight. He lined up with the others, his sword drawn like the others, what little but of fear he had held captive in his eyes. For that moment at least, this time where all the pirates had come together for this stand against the East India Trading Company, the Devil, the sea itself, they were all members of the same crew.

Will felt his heart rate quicken, heard the sound like the roar of a fire rumble inside his head. A rage made his blood go hot. He had been right; all along he had been right. Jack hadn't listened to him and now men were going to die, men that didn't have to die.

The attacking privateers slithered over the decks like snakes. Will couldn't see their source, but he could guess that it wouldn't have taken much to hide a ship or two amongst the others undetected. There subtle cocking of flintlocks and blunderbusses filled in the silence on the deck. Will didn't know how many of the crew understood what was happening, but they seemed ready t defend their ship until the captain told them otherwise. Damn that man, he didn't deserve a ship full of loyal pirates. Those pirates had deserved a warning.

"Steady on…hold your fire." The attackers where less than three ships lengths away now…two. No one stopped them, there were few pirates left on the ships that were not filing down through the forest. One ship length away.

"Fire!" The crew shot a volley of pistol balls over the approaching group. Only three shots hit their marks. Three men stumbled back and thumped onto the decks, there they lay unmoving.

Those who had lain down their swords picked them up again. Seconds moved like years for a while. Every step closer was another age of the earth, and when the first boot struck the first board on the deck everything started, and moved so fast that Will had no time to think about what happened next until he remembered it later.

The clash of metal and yells of battle filled their ears. The swordsmen were good, but now match at all for Will. Before he knew what had happened pure instinct had two men lying like rag dolls on the deck, bleeding, and wide eyed staring at the sky.

Gibbs that found himself high ground at the top of the stair, keeping two more men at bay. Pintel and Raggetti fought one man all together, they drove him back towards the rail and pushed him into the water. Three nearby privateers growled and Pintel and Raggetti exchanged one three-eyed glance before retreating into the head room, closely followed by the snarling shouts of the mercenaries.

Will didn't know himself as he fought. He fended of three men like it was nothing. He never remembered fighting like this in his life. It both frightened and thrilled him, but he had no time to think just act as more and more of the attacking men seemed to realize who their strongest enemy was and tried to overwhelm him with shear numbers. Will was drawing off the brunt of the battle, giving the rest of the crew time to defeat their opponents.

The crew of the Black Pearl may have seemed weak and scraggly. There numbers were small but they had heart. Cotton struck a blow, the parrot distracting his with a flurry of feathers and screeching, "Walk the plank!" Marty held his own against the onslaught a pistol in on hand and a slightly too big cutlass in the other. They were winning, amazing as it seemed to them. The fight was thickest at the head of the boat, where Will stood alone shaking with the effort of fending of the remainder. Men fell to the right and left, Will no worse for the wear than bruised aching knuckles and a cut on his cheek where a blade had grazed. But even in this heightened half-crazed state Will found himself in, he couldn't conceivable fight and win against the remaining eight enemies, all knowing where it was best to strike. Five already within striking distance.

One man stood closest to Will, shadowed by a broad brimmed hat and a dark cape. He was by far the best in the group with a sword. In the fast action of the fighting he had stayed with Will, closely mirroring his moves, and Will had had several narrow escapes already. Trying to fight the others and this man at once wasn't easy. Every step Will gave was another closer to a miss step. Every second he gave to fend off another, this shadowy man that moved like a viper, a serpentine smile visible under his hat, was moving in, ready to cut William down with some dreadful anticipation.

The dazed flurry of action seemed to freeze for a second. Will bumped up against the railing, he felt it like the hand of death on the small of his back. He had nowhere else to go, no room to maneuver. He was acutely aware of the serpent like shadow; the sword raised, his sharp incisors glinting in the last light as the sun was swallowed by approaching storm clouds. He noticed the others that had dogged him into the corner back away almost imperceptible, letting the leader of their pride go in for the kill.

It was a surprising thing to see Choy, that slight Asian guide Feng had left behind, his only duty to himself no that his job was done, jumping into the fray like a bobcat. He pushed Wills executioner away, holding his sword out in front of himself in a pitifully untrained manner, a menacing look in his eye. Will always shook with regret when he remembered it later; the scene was engrained into his memory like a oil painting on his mind. Will stood there like a statue, cemented in his place, tired but not panting because he couldn't breathe. Everyone that watched, the other privateers stood as still as he watching in amazement the things that transpired.

Choy stood in a sloppy stance, visibly untrained and practically useless with a sword, but his spirit wouldn't let him leave Will to die. A little blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth from an early part of the battle, but it just made his round face look stronger, his almond shaped eyes shone with fear and adrenaline and a kind of bravery that very few have ever seen I action.

The fight wasn't really a fight; it was a mockery of a fight. The Shadow fought with the smooth ease of years of training, defending himself easily from Choy's most vicious attacks, disarming him in seconds. The man in the dark cape, with the sharp smile, and the shadowed face, ran Choy through in one swift motion, and had the audacity to look bored.

Will couldn't yell, couldn't move, still couldn't force himself to breath. The sight was so awe inspiring and so dreadful, Will couldn't look away. Choy's body took the blade; he did make a sound, but his fingers wrapped themselves around the handle of the blade that impaled him. He whispered something. Will didn't know what he said, or who he said it to. It might have been Japanese, it was too quiet to hear. As the last word left his lips he died quietly and without ceremony, but his fingers remained around the handle of the blade tighter than the grip of a boa constrictor and the serpent couldn't pull it out though he tried.

"The seven levels of blasted, bloody, hell!" The man cursed as he pulled the sword. His friends, or at least partners were still rooted. He let go of the sword, blood dripping from his fingers, and turned to Will. Drawing a knife from his belt, dangerous as ever even without the sword Choy had died to take away from him. Will's own sword was loose in his hand, the tip resting on the deck. His eyes were wide, he finally breathed a shallow breath and looked at Choy, paying no attention to the man with the poised to slice his throat open.

Will would have died then if it hadn't been for the voice that roused him, made both he and his nemesis look to the deck of the neighboring ship. Another man stood there. He was in charge, even more so than the Shadow. You could tell just by the way he stood. "Lister," He yelled, "Their coming down, we have to go!"

To his horror Will recognized the man. He hadn't seen his face the last time, but his hulking build was enough. The ugly bruise on his face just another confirmation that this was the same man that had attacked him in Singapore.

Lister forgot his quarry, running like a pup to his master's call. Will was jogged from his immobility and into action again. He slipped back into his mindless, primitive state. Not thinking about what had just happened. He didn't want to think about it.

Everything ended very quickly after that. The crew finally came to help their comrade, even Pintel and Raggetti emerged from their hiding spot looking lightly battered. The last of the men either retreated of died, later thrown into the sea.

An eternity had passed. Will had been changing, he had known that even before the Kraken had attacked the Black Pearl. What ever change had been started had been pushed along by this fight. Whatever Will was going to become, he was on the very edge of becoming it. He wondered if he would recognize himself if he looked in a mirror. But all such thoughts where lost when he knelt by the side Choy's lifeless body.

Will remembered later that when he sat there on his heels, looking at the serene expression on Choy's face, closing his eyelids and knowing that he was at rest, his only thought was that if in the entire world there was an honorable pirate Choy had been that man…Will didn't think at all about who Lister and Erik and gone to meet, or what they might do when they found them in that secluded corner of the forest…

* * *

Jack ran, not his lizard run either, he ran like he had run in the Locker when the banshee like scream had pursued him down the awful hallway. If something happen to Lizzie… 

The branches of the trees were still, the world was silent but for the sound of wings. Jack didn't look up, he guessed at what he might see, his boots pounded on the flags. How far could she have gone? She couldn't be too much farther in front of him, but still he didn't know when she had left. What if he was too late to stop it, whatever was happening?

Every step he took was like a thunder clap. He moved in the dreadful slow motion of a chasing nightmare. Slow…to slow.

Each bend he came too, he thought he might see her, he found empty. He hoped that this might all be a bad dream, or a stupid misunderstanding, overreaction. He could cope with an overreaction.

A cold finger ran down his back when he heard a voice ahead. "…The one with the wedding band on it... Someone's coming! Slit her throat." The last trees finally moved aside. He saw the scene. The hulking man disappearing into the trees, the second smaller figure dressed in black, or at the very least navy blue, holding the knife.

The knife jagged sharp, held to Elizabeth's throat her eyes wide with terror. Jack took in all in and his mind gasped at the unfathomable truth. She was going to die and he was too late to stop it.

Elizabeth had an irrational thought then, as the cold metal bit into the soft skin of her neck. She wished that she might have died with a different sight in view. Anything but that of serpentine smile.

That is when the screaming started. It was her, she realized. She was screaming, something dreadful had happened and she was screaming to wake the dead. Blood was everywhere, on her face, on her cloths, in her mouth. She suddenly was silent, only able to half gasp half sob, her ears rang. Elizabeth was stiff like another tree, shock holding her still like a great hand the wrapped around her.

The crimson covered cutlass tip was inches form her nose, gleaming and gruesome with gore. Lister twitched hideously his eyes were wider than any she had seen before and his tongue writhed him his mouth, flicking like a snakes. Maybe he was trying to say something, or possibly he was already dead. Elizabeth didn't care, didn't want to see anymore so she closed her eyes and fell back against the tree, fighting the involuntary shudders that racked her body, and fighting the impulse to dissolve into tears.

The blood was running back down the sword, over the blade to drip at Jacks feet. His mouth hung open for a while, horrified at what had happened, sickened when the man went limp at last and slid of his sword. He looked at the corpse that lay on the ground. Jack hated killing.

His mission wasn't forgotten for long. Elizabeth leaned quavering against the tree, breathing in sobs, her eyes tightly closed. Jack sheathed his sword and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

Elizabeth started and looked up into Jack's face. For a moment he looked as scared as she was, but that changed. He didn't call back his usual sarcastic expression, he remained rather solemn as he looked her over.

"You alright?" His voice was still rough with agitation. Elizabeth sighed, relieved and calmed by Jack's presence. She closed her eyes again, repeating over and over in her head that she was safe now. Jack put a hand on her cheek and lifted her chin to look at her throat.

"I'm not hurt." She said, leveling her eyes at him. "Just a cut, a shallow one. It'll heal."

Jack let a smile slip free and run across his face before his wrangled it and stuffed in back in its place behind his eyes. He had been worried about her. It made her skin feel hot.

She was tired of feeling guilty for it, she thought. She had wanted Jack to be there and he had come, he had saved her and that was all that mattered. Was it so wrong to be happy for that? She finally melted into tears.

Jack didn't pull his hand away from her face, her ran his thumb over her cheek smearing Lister's blood with her warm tears. "Look at me, I'm falling apart. I should be stronger than this after everything."

Jack looked at her, very serious and very gentle. "You don't need to be strong right now."

Gunfire exploded above their heads sending splinters of bark and pine needles flying. Jack and Elizabeth ducked. Two more shots where fired. There was someone in the trees, more than one someone and they seemed set on the idea of Jack and Elizabeth dead before the sun set.

Jack grabbed Elizabeth's hand tightly and they ran.


	9. Chapter 13

**(Chapter Fourteen)**

**The Long Storm before the Quiet**

The crew bustled around to set sail as if they had no reason to be tired. Jack was really very different once he was back in his natural environment, like coming to the surfacing after a long time under water. It was easier to pretend there was nothing wrong here.

The wind was picking up, by the time he and Elizabeth had reached the ship there was a steady drizzle soaking the bay. The wind was picking up as well. Jack wanted to make it out of the Heron's Neck before the squall started in full; the group of captains he would be leading had the same idea.

The way out of the Neck was easier, now they knew the bends and twists that needed to be followed. The group of ships that would be following the Pearl was close behind.

Will was still shaken by the earlier drama, but even more so by Elizabeth's appearance. When she had arrived she looked like a ghost with her pale skin looking even paler speckled with the dark crimson of blood. Elizabeth had seemed far away, as if she had a lot to think about and there was no room for anything else in her head right then.

Jack had followed close behind, looking over his shoulder in case something was pursuing him. "You were right." He said when he passed Will. "I should have listened to you about the privateers, their all over the forest." Jack seemed too tired to realize that that was a very un-Jack-like thing to say. Jack relinquished Elizabeth to her fiancé with only the slightest of begrudging smiles and set to work reading the ship for launch.

His expression darkened and became even grimmer as Tia and Gibbs filled him in on all that had happened while he was gone. Poor Choy had been Sao's nephew. Jack didn't like to have to give the news to him. Especially since the entire thing was really his fault.

At the helm Jack was given time to think, which was exactly what he didn't need. He tried to concentrate on steering the ship thought the narrow passage, being careful of the jagged rocks, but it was no trouble at all because it was all second nature to him still. The wind died win the entered the shelter of the rocks, and Jack had time to decide exactly what had happened on the mountain. Nothing of significance, nothing at all.

Gibbs stood behind him, completely comfortable even in the narrowest of spaces with Jack at the wheel of the Pearl, taking notice of Jacks preoccupation and letting questions of his own form in his mind. "Would I be overstepping, to ask something?"

"Ask whatever questions you want Master Gibbs, whether I chose to answer or not is something else entirely."

"Something has been hanging heavy on you since we made our way form the Locker, what is troubling you?"

Jack considered not answering; after all, he hadn't spoken truthfully about what had happened even once since the Locker. But he reconsidered, asking a question of his own. "You're asking out of your own personal curiosity? Or do you suspect that I am no longer fit for the captaincy?"

Gibbs shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "I wouldn't presume to go so far as that, but I would guess it is a bit of both."

Gibbs almost gave up, Jack was silent for so long, but at last he spoke. "I feel overreached, like there isn't enough of me left to live all of the life I've come so recently back to. I don't know if I can properly be what I was before. Is that clear to you?" Gibbs shook his head 'yes' and meant 'no'.

"I can't explain better, you'll have to cope with idle curiosity or speculation. Was that all you wanted to know?" Jack shifted the wheel slightly.

"No, mostly I wanted to know what happened on the mountain." Jack face twisted into a grimace. He did tell Gibbs briefly what had happened, leaving out a few choice details.

"…The worst of is it that young William informed me that there might be an ambush in the bay and I dismissed it. I don't imagine that they will follow us now, but it's still a possibility that they might attach on the open ocean, so we should be careful of that…" Jack trailed off, there was nothing else to explain, or at least nothing that he would tell to his first mate. His eyes drifted over to where Will was fussing over Elizabeth, and lingered there as his hands steered them out of the last of the Heron's Neck, without his minds assistance.

"Don't." Elizabeth brushed Will away when he tried to look at the cut on her neck. "It's fine."

"You're sure you don't want to tell me what happened?" Will was possibly more upset that Elizabeth. She was white as the foamy caps of the waves and trembling slightly, but still had enough control to let her eyes flash and snap that she had told him.

"I was ambushed on the way back to the ship--"

"You walked alone?"

"Yes, it was stupid. Jack walked down after me and killed one of the men and this is his blood not mine." Elizabeth looked over at Jack standing at the helm, he looked away. "Then we ran back to the ship. There," She sighed, reassuring herself. "not even as dramatic as what happened to you." She pushed her dampening hair out of her eyes, and smiled weakly.

"You are getting soaked. Why don't you go out of the rain and rest, clean yourself up." Elizabeth nodded, she would like nothing better. Will leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Elizabeth was hollow and stiff and shaken up badly. He didn't understand it like she did but she kissed him back and ran out of the rain.

Will had an aching jealous suspicion that he tried to push from his mind. He swung his head and looked at Jack who what looking straight back on him, when their gazes met it was like being struck in the face. Jack's jaw clenched, and Will's eyes communicating every threat he could think of, but finally Jack was the fist that looked away and the momentary lightning storm on the deck was over.

When Elizabeth had gone to her cabin to rest and clean herself up, Will went to loose himself in the rigging. Action was the cure for everything and he knew that if he stopped to think he would be buried in thought. He didn't want to over think the meaning in the glace Elizabeth had thrown Jack. Jack looked haggard, windblown, and lost in his own thoughts. Will didn't want to over think what had happened, what might have happened. Not the fact that if he had stayed and walk Elizabeth down to the ship himself that in all likelihood she wouldn't have been cornered, or the fact that if he had done anything differently the crew wouldn't probably have survived the attack

Jack tried to shake off the unpleasant, unfamiliar feeling crawling up his back. They reached the mouth of the Neck and Jack abruptly let go of the wheel, like he didn't have the heart to hold it anymore. "Would I put the crew in a terrible spot if I went below deck?"

"Do as you like, captain, we'll manage fine." Jack grimaced and nodded, and dropped below deck into the rum cellar, bypassing all the bottles to sit pensively on a barrel. The water was splashing over the ship, thunder rumbled in the distance. Jack closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, trying to remember what listening the sea had felt like before. He lay motionless for a long time, but he didn't let himself fall asleep. He couldn't stand being asleep anymore, not when every night he had the same dream over and over again. But he dreamed even awake.

In her cabin Elizabeth tried to scrub away the blood, she had soap and she used it. With a tub of sea water that would make her skin dry, and soap the smelled like half drowned flowers, she washed over her skin over and over again. The blood washed away easily. The dirt on her skin was a little harder, but with patients and intensity her was clean, trying to clean away what had happened along with the grime and gore. When she dressed and sat exhausted on her bed she didn't rest like she should have. She stared out the round porthole, and watched the sky darken, thinking of his smile. Who's smile? She didn't even know.

The meal wasn't anything special. Salted pork, bread and cheese for some, there was no rum, even though it was missed. No one dared enter the rum cellar and get a case for the same reason no one brought the captain any food.

A heavy blackness settled over the ship. They called it a mass for a lost sailor, but every one of them new it had more to do with the disposition of the sea, and the disposition of the sea's friend Jack Sparrow. What ever ailed the sea, ailed them both. The same illness, the same loss. Jack was unwell because of the sea. Jack WAS unwell, you could see it by the pallor in his face, and if you had known him for any length of time you knew just by the way he was walking these days that there was a heavy weight hanging on his shoulders. He didn't smile like he used to, he never insulted the crew just because he felt the urge to do so. He didn't hum anymore; he didn't laugh, joke, gibe, mock or tell stories. The bottle of rum he carried with him was always full.

If they had brought Jack back from the dead, it was hard to see the difference it made. If the world was a sad place without Jack Sparrow, then it was a sadder one with him.

Those that could turned in early for the night. Will tangled himself into the ropes, stared at the waves, pink tipped in the sunset, and whistled a sad song he didn't know the words to. Tia's voice made him jump. He had been waiting for Elizabeth to come out. Maybe he could have talked to her, put his unsettled mind to rest, and buried his face in her hair.

"William Turner, come wif me." Will raised both eyebrows.

"Why? Nothing bat, newt or eyeball related is it?"

Tia grinned widely and put her arm through Wills leading him off. "No promises. You dwant to know don't you? Bout your touch of destiny."

"I had almost forgotten about it…" They walked towards the door of the head room.

"Only almost?"

"There were a few things have made me wonder about…" The stepped into the candle lit room and closed the door behind them, just as Tia threw a look over her shoulder and smiled. Jack came up from below deck looking wearier than when he had disappeared, and she heard the door to Elizabeth's cabin opened.

Elizabeth sat up, and was finally ready to talk to someone, anyone to break into her solitude.

"Will?" She said as she pushed the door opened. But he wasn't there anymore. She could have sworn she had just heard his voice. She walked around the mast to find him. She couldn't restrain, a sharp intake of breath when she saw who was standing there. It was Jack, looking over the railing. He hadn't noticed her, and she jumped back behind the mast and held her back to it. Her heart rate raced. Elizabeth laughed at herself, what was she doing?

He had startled her, not who she expected. "Don't be stupid." She berated herself, "It's his ship. What are you doing?" Even thought she managed to laugh at her own silliness, she didn't move. She didn't have any desire to talk to him right now, she felt like an unrepentant sinner, avoiding penance and going dancing. This was stupid. How long could she stand here and hide for no reason at all? She pushed her drying hair behind her ears, just wet enough that it was chill to the touch, and it feathered around her shoulders.

She stepped around the mast, and padded over barefoot to where Jack was standing.

* * *

"Sid down William." There was a table set up in the center of the room for whatever manner of witchery Dalma was planning. There were five candles in the table situated around a silvery bowl Will hadn't seen before. It was likely that no one on the ship, but Tia, had seen it before because if you show off your good silver on a pirate ship YOU won't see it again.

Tia Dalma's crab claws had spilled from their bad on one side and there was a knife, sharp looking, on the other.

Will sat at the only end that had a chair. The chair was too short; it made him feel like a little boy crouching in the corner of a chalk dust filled classroom.

"Dere are some rules before I begin. Sometimes me visions are not clear; I will tell you all I can tell you. De first rule is do not question or interrupt me when I look into da watta. Dat could bery well distort the image, and the vision would prove untrue. De second rule is do not look ad de watta went the magic begins, you're not ready to see into da future."

"The future?"

"The third rule is do not interrupt me when I tell you da rules. And da fourth and final be…" Tia trailed of as if she was reconsidering what she was about to do. Was this her place? She was neither Fate nor matchmaker. Would her interference affect the events ahead? She knew too much to think that possible. Besides, she had made her decision and she would make one choice that she would not regret before the end.

"Don shoot da messenger, dese tings are not from me they are da path set before me that I must walk." Tia reached out and pulled forth a water skin, out of the shadows between the flickers cast by the candles. Pulling the stopper she took on the attitude of a story teller and explained, "Dis water is special. Jack bring some back for me once, as payment for a favor. It is drawn from a sacred spring high in the mountains of a civilization long lost to the worl'" She sloshed a healthy amount into the silvery bowl. "I brought enough with me to See three times. I used it once already."

Will frowned, "But why are you wasting this on me, and why now?" Tia was quiet for a long time, and she stared at something behind Will's shoulder as if she could see a drama playing out there.

"I feel it is important, and me feelings be rarely wrong." Tia took in a deep breath, like she might never taste the air again, and leaned over the bowl, taking up the knife and holding it poised over her wrist.

"You are sure you wan to hear dis." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and Will was certain that he wanted to, as the drop of blood fell towards the water and was swallowed up in a brilliant flash of light.

* * *

Though she decided to go and talk to him Elizabeth had nothing to say. He didn't acknowledge her existence when she walked over, nor did she try to draw his attention.

Jack leaned against the rail on his arms, his fingers interweaved and his eyes on the choppy water, the emerald sapphire gems rush one way and then the other crowned with heir foamy diadems. Such a similar mood on two different faces.

Jack knew she was there. How could he not, he was always painfully aware of where she was. She was like a hot coal in the snow of his consciousness. Elizabeth leaned back on the railing with her elbows, so they were facing different direction. She could have commented on the weather, the sea, the clouds that were working their way across the sky and meeting the orange of the dying sunlight with a dazzling final stand. She stayed as silent as Jack, feeling like she was intruding on a private funeral, but unwilling to go be alone or to leave Jack alone with the sea as ill company.

She studied his face very carefully. He was pale under his swarthy tan, and there were dark rings under his eyes from the heap of nights he had spent without sleep just to avoid the nightmares. Even worse was the way his jaw seemed constantly clenched, like he was suppressing severe pain. She remembered how cold his hands had been. Nothing showed it more clearly than his eyes, they used to be warm sarcastic mischief filled places, now cold and dark as any grave stone with a portion of sadness in the corners like the place where mourners lay their flowers.

What had he come here for? Company? Certainly not human company. Possibly that of the sea, but the sea must have been his worst tormentor now. What if he hadn't just come to look at the sea? Was he at the end of his rope? Could he mean to jump? Like a reflex of anxious worry she reached out and put her right hand on his. Remembering guiltily that he could read her thoughts some of the time.

Jack looked down at her hand, following the wrist up to the arm and finally looking into the face of Elizabeth Swann. She looked a little flushed, and he conjured up a slight smile. "Not my worst tormentor." He said under his breath, so low that she only guessed what he said. She pulled her hand away and turned to look at the ocean. Trying to fill her mind with ambiguous thoughts like how rough the sea was, or what color Will's eyes were.

She bit her lip and held up her left hand, which trembled a little. "Look at me, still shaking from earlier." That was it. What else could be making her quaver?

Jack looked at the sea as if it wasn't close enough for him. He was dreaming awake now…or was it Elizabeth remembering loudly. The ship covered in blood and the Kraken's burning remains. "We're not out of this yet, darling."…"You came back." The kiss. What was worse, the ultimate terminal betrayal or the fact the she had sealed it with a kiss? Was the chink of the manacle still ringing in her ears, or was that just sea spray on her cheeks? The sky was dark, only enough light still lingered there for you to be teased by your blindness. The wind picked up as the rain began to pour miles away, and Elizabeth was a picture as her hair flew about framing her face.

"Jack…" She had to choke out the words before anything else happened. He looked at her again, making her stammer, struggle to make her words clear. "I-I just need to tell you I—I am…"

She stopped, unable to finish. Jack shifted and moved, stepping very close to her. "What is it you want to say?" He asked, putting one hand on the railing on either side of her. It made her heart flutter like a butterfly in a windstorm. "Elizabeth?"

* * *

The flash of light blinded Will for a moment, after so long in dim light. Tia Dalma, when he could see her, looked like she was in some kind of trance. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, so that the white showed in an alarming way. Even after the initial flash of light the brightest thing in the room was the water in the silver basin.

Despite the promise he had made, Will found the urge to look at the water and see what Tia was seeing was almost overwhelming. It wasn't just light, unearthly and ethereal, it was sound, as well, like a whisper speaking about whatever was going on in the pool. Will could hear it, whatever it was, lyrical voices coming from the water, explaining the sights or calling to him to look. He had to look.

Will got to his feet and leaned forward, just to see over the rim of the bowl, just a glace. Could it hurt? A wave of dizziness and nausea hit him before he saw anything, shaking him out of his own trance, slapping him across the face and letting him see what he was doing properly for the first time. He gasped and sat back trying to recover. Whatever was happening, it wasn't for him to see.

After a long time the light dimmed slightly and Tia Dalma spoke, "Wad is your question?"

Will asked the first thing that jumped into his mind. "Will I free my father from Davy Jones?"

Tia Looked back into the water, which flared for a few seconds and then dimmed again. "No."

"What?"

"No, you will not free your father."

Shock was plain on his face as he asked once again unbelieving. "What do mean?"

"Wad I said. Your father will not be freed by your hand."

Will sat back in his seat, reeling. After all this fighting, endless meandering and searching, after gathering their forces to attack the East India Trading Company fleet, he was going to fail to keep his promise. Maybe he hadn't wanted to know after all.

"Wad is your question?"

Will suddenly had a headache, his second question was of a more hopeless nature, but was worded more nicely than How does he die? "What is his fate?"

"Bootstrap Bill Turner will be freed when the Heart of Davy Jones be pierced." Tia's eyes were still the eerie unseeing white that was giving Will the creeps.

"That could mean anything! He could be freed two-hundred years form now!"

"I can answer only de questions dat you ask. Wad IS your question?" Will took a few moments to calm himself down. He decided he did NOT want to know to out come of the upcoming battle. If there was anything worse than running headlong into battle with an unknown outcome was plunging into one you knew you would loose. He thought about what he really wanted to know. Something he wanted to know more than her feared the answer.

"When will Elizabeth and I return to Port Royal?"

The flash of light was almost instantaneous this time, as if the answer was a short one. "You will not be returning to Port Royal."

"I won't be returning or she won't?"

"Neiver of you will be returning?"

"Ever?"

"Eva."

Will's ears were ringing. What was he doing here, asking these questions? He didn't want to know this? No one should have to know this much of their future. If they didn't return to Port Royal what would become of the workshop, him and Elizabeth, the wedding? The most important question he could think of jumped from his tongue before he could convince himself he didn't want to know the answer.

"But why?"

Tia Dalma looked into the water yet again, and this time the light was wavering, instead of shining steadily. Tia's brow furrowed as if she didn't like what she was seeing. When she finally raised her head and spoke she seemed exhausted. "Because you do not choose to return."

"But why not!"

"I cannot say…"

"Why not!" Will spoke with ferocity he didn't expect.

"I CAN NOT!" Tia's yell far outstripped his for volume, making even the basin on the table rattle slightly. She stretched out one long fingered hand over the water, and put her index finger to her head, trying to calm the disturbance she had caused.

"I cannot answer dat question, wifout affecting de events which needs must take place."

"You cannot? Or you simply refuse to, so to make things turn out the way you want them to?"

"I can not tell you what you want to know. Now, will you ask de question dat you must ask or wait longer?"

Will lay his face in his hands and thought for a moment. He had one more question to ask and though he didn't want the answer with one part of his mind, the side of him that had been manifesting itself more and more over ruled his reason. He asked.

"What is my destiny?"

* * *

Elizabeth's skin felt very hot, and she was glad of the darkness that hid her blushing. She was aware of how trapped she was, between the railing and Jack, and seriously considered jumping and taking her chances. She couldn't look anywhere, but at him. She couldn't avoid looking in his eyes without looking exactly like she was avoiding looking in his eyes. Elizabeth really feared what she might find there. A small suggestion of a smile was on his lips.

"Elizabeth?" He asked, expectantly and instead of waiting for an answer he kissed her.

Startled, lost in the moment, Elizabeth closed her eyes. Was this a dream or real? What did she want it to be?

Jack's arms tightened around her like she might turn into a vapor and the wind that picked up again in another glorious gust might carry her away. In some part of his mind Jack still thought he might be in another terrible memory, any moment he could wake and find himself alone in the Locker, drenched in the tears of past victims, or maybe he was back on the ship and Elizabeth was about to chain him to the mast and he would die again like he had every night since the rescue, in his nightmares. Either way it didn't matter, he wouldn't waste the time on something as nonessential as breathing.

Elizabeth feared too, that she might open her eyes and see herself leaving Jack to die on the ship, while she and the crew escaped. She couldn't bare the possibility, nor entertain the thought that she might be happy here, happier than she had ever been before. Nor would she dare to hope that this meant Jack could have forgiven her, and that he cared about her despite everything. All she could do was remain lost in that moment, that endless kiss that spanned untold breathless ages and ended all too soon.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, finally letting them focus on the world just over Jack's shoulder, she couldn't repress a pained sob.

"Will!" She whispered, for it was the only thing she could say.

* * *

"No I don't believe it! I could never do it; I could never bring myself to do it!" Will had kicked the chair behind him, and it skidded off and smashed against the wall behind him.

"I did not promise you t'would be easy, I just bear da truth, in all da gory details." Tia Dalma stood tall, her dark eyes back to their normal mystic glory. The bowl may have gone dark but she still glowed with a light of her own.

"I can't believe this future is fixed, I'm going to find Elizabeth now, and we will prove you wrong. No silver basin is going to determine my end! I will save my father! I WILL stab the heart, and when I am done I will go home and be a respectable man, and if I spend the rest of my life on dry land just to prove you wrong I WILL DO IT!" Tia Dalma shook her head sadly. She hadn't wanted this, but it had to be done. She would not look back now, not so close to the final conclusion.

Will moved toward the door. And a creeping shiver ran down Tia's neck. Not yet! She moved to stop him, "William!" but it was already too late, he tore open the door and looked out.

Not so long ago a similar thing had gone on. Life is not without a sense of irony, even if it is devoid of justice. Now the positions had been reversed, Will looked on and saw the intimate embrace that he wasn't meant to see. Unable to do anything else he stood cemented to the spot, watching the woman he loved kiss the man he couldn't help but hate, and thinking many of the same thoughts Jack had thought when their rolls had been the other way about.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and they were met with Will's hurt questioning stare, begging this thing to be anything other than what it was. She pulled away from Jack, wanting to say something ridiculous like it wasn't what it looked like. But that would have been foolish, a lie, because it was exactly what it looked like.

"Will I…" She stopped, having nothing to say.

Standing in the light of the door way he looked like some sort of messenger angel. He stood there dumbstruck and not speaking for a long time. Tia Dalma stood behind him looking as worried about the way this might turn out as any mortal there.

To Elizabeth's horror Will pulled out his pistol. But neither of them knew what he should have done with it, or who he should point it at first. There were so many choices. Will dropped the weapon on the deck. It thudded to the ground like the judges gavel. The trial was over and the verdict clear. The sentence was the only thing left and Will had a very good idea how it would end, thanks to the clairvoyance of a certain voodoo priestess. He turned and walked away, keeping himself from running by sheer force of will. He stumbled up the steps to the stern of the ship, and weighed the merits of jumping into the ocean or weighting for the end to come to him.

Jack didn't look anywhere or see anything. He had known how it would all end from the beginning. There was not winning when you had made a deal with Davy Jones. You could never have what you wanted. He was tightly cursed indeed. The kiss hadn't helped, it had made things worse. He was more in love with Elizabeth Swann, soon to me Mrs. Turner, than ever. He couldn't love what he did have, and had to love what he could never have, it wasn't fair.

Elizabeth pulled away from him like he didn't even exist. Jack's followed after her as she ran after Will and her bare feet pattered across the deck. Everything was a blur, and time slowed to a trudge that left Jack wondering if he would trapped in that one awful moment forever. When he looked up his eyes met those of Tia Dalma, and they narrowed to angry slits. "You happy with you handiwork then?" He asked her in a voice so calm and resolved to calamity that it broke your heart. Tia opened her mouth like she might say something. "It was meant to be" maybe or, "Time will show I was right" but now words came out and anyway Jack had turned away form her to march across the deck sinking into the hold like so much fog.

"Will wait! Stop! Let me explain, let me talk and hear me even if I have nothing to say but I am sorry. One hundred times and more, I am sorry!" Elizabeth didn't fight the sob in her voice or the tears that ran down her face in cold streaks.

"Tell me, tell me anything, Elizabeth. Tell me this is a terrible dream, you are the princess come to kiss me awake. Tell me I have no heart to ache…tell me the sea is made of glass." He stared at an invisible point on the horizon. His hand were in fists and they were shaking. "Say anything at all, but say that I can sponge out that sight burned into my mind."

"William Turner, I love you."

"Don't tell me that. Love has betrayed me twice now, like the unfaithful bride it is." He whirled and put his hands on her shoulders. He seemed transformed, larger than life, and in his eyes was a wild look she had never seen before. She felt very, very small under his hands.

"I don't know it! The answer escapes me. I don't understand how fate would be so cruel as to let me love you both, but it has left me my choice and I choose you. Nothing could change that."

"But you DO love him."

"Yes. No! I don't even know myself anymore."

"You will forget him then?" Will intoned, in a scarring, sarcastic voice. "Like you forgot him the last time? You'll forget him till the next time he whispers something quietly into your ear, and then you'll jump into his arms again. You tell me you never cared about him yet I have never seen you look like you did just then when he kissed you." She heard his voice break with emotion. "You glowed."

"Can you not forgive me Will? Don't forgive me. I don't deserve it…" He lifted his chin to look her in the eyes.

"There are many things I would go through for loving you Elizabeth. I would walk a mile through fire for you." He leaned forward like he might kiss her cheek, and stopped short. "But I cannot live with you, the rest of my life, knowing that every time I kiss you, you will be thinking of him. Do not ask it of me."

"Hate me then…cast me aside, but let me know that you can let my grievous wrong die. Do not hold it against me forever." Elizabeth made her last dying plea.

"I can't force myself to blame you, it's not in me. To me you are still some insurmountable force, an earthly angel, despite what I can see with my own eyes. I blame him, I blame him everyday." The black flame returned to his face.

"It wasn't all his fault!"

"Oh, do wake up Elizabeth! Listen to yourself defend him, that immoral, inconstant pirate! You aren't the first poor unwitting child; he has done this a hundred times to a hundred girls. Jack never cared about you. I can only hope he breaks your heart and breaks you out of this fairy tale world you live in where you think that true love still works out in a happily ever after."

Elizabeth's mouth hung open, she floundered for the words, "Will?...Will, will you break it first?"

"Yours isn't the only heart involved here." Will stepped back to the rail in the bow of the ship, and sighed heavily like his soul was fighting to flee his body. "Go, leave me alone. I need time to think. Needless to say there are many, too many things that I must think about tonight. Remember this only…" He warned her. "Decide carefully what you really want Elizabeth, what you want best. This cross road will decide what happens to you forever, good or ill. Let it be good, even for my sake, let it be for the good."

* * *

Jack kicked his heel against the barrel he sat on in a steady hollow, thump…thump…thump. The false sunrise cast a melancholy blue through the cellar, and Jack decided that if everything went wrong in this day also then he wanted rum when he faced it. Drunk and miserable beat sober and despairing any day.

He picked up the full bottle at his side, he constant and faithful companion, waiting obediently for a chance to be of service.

The cork came free with the familiar pop, and without a second to hesitation Jack poured three healthy swallows down his throat, and felt the burning sensation in his mouth as the warmth reached his stomach. He set the bottle on his knee and watched it; the amber liquid sloshing from side to side in the pale light, and even deeper there was Elizabeth dancing. She wore Tia's scarlet dress, and the fabric spun around her legs and her bare feet. Her hair was loose and beautiful falling in wavy golden brown locks around her smiling face. He caught her eye, and for a while her smile was for him before she spun again in time with the music.

He hurled the bottle across the room and watched it shatter and spill all over everything, yelling. "One thing in the entire world…why did it have to be her?"

* * *

It was a sleepless night for many. While Jack was hiding in the hold of his own ship Elizabeth leaned against the mast and stared at the open ocean asking herself the same question over again, sometimes aloud and sometimes only in her mind.

"What do I want?"

The solution cam shortly after the first pink streaks showed up in the corner of her sky. She felt for the weight in her pocket and drew it out, looked uneasily at it like it was an evil thing brought to light. The Compass as always was a little too comfortable in her hands. She kept it closed and sighed heavily. How could she be trusting her entire future to a compass that didn't point north?

But the compass did point somewhere, it pointed to what she wanted most in this world. She new where her choices lay at least. They were few and they were decided for her. One stood solidly at the bow of the boat, standing in the spot she had left him without moving. Will looked at once resolute and broken. Her other she could not see, but she knew where he was, somewhere in the stern hiding like a bat out of the sunlight. She wondered what Jack thought of her. If she had a third choice she didn't see it, unless it was to jump into the ocean and hope the waves would be kind to her.

There were two questions to be asked. Firstly, how was she to use what the compass told her? Should she think it best to not trust her own wants and go with that other thing whatever it was? Secondly, did she really want to know what her heart wanted when her mind was clearly the rational one to make the choice? She didn't even know whether the compass would work for her. Elizabeth felt conflicted. She felt conflicted when she opened the compass, and as the needle spun around and around like a dizzy arrow in a sea of numbers she thought that the compass was conflicted as well.

Her hopes sunk even lower. A problem could not be solved with magic…

That was when the needle stopped and stood solidly still, certain of its direction. She wanted to disbelieve it, but she knew where it pointed and to her horror she knew it was right.

Her eyes filled with tears as she sank to her knees. This couldn't be right. In despair she closed the lid of the compass and let it slip form her fingers. Her eyes closed tightly against the tears "I want what I want…I want what I want!" She sobbed again and again.

* * *

After midnight, Tia Dalma was still in the headroom. Whether she was unable to sleep, or didn't sleep at all was a mystery, but it was certain that she looked tired. Something troubled her like nothing ever had before, that would have been simple to see to anyone who had known her for any length of time. Had they troubled to asked, she might have told one of her companions what she saw in the basin when she looked the first time.

The candles about her magical accoutrements were doused, the crab claws had been pocketed and the lamps mounted on the walls had lit them selves, so the room glowed with a dull and unwelcome illumination.

She didn't look up when Jack came in, but she noted the manner of his arrival and that effected her decision to keep her eyes on the empty silver bowl. Is someone could barge into a room slowly and quietly, Jack had managed it. He boots hardly made a noise, but he projected himself into the room, whether he meant it or not, with a palpable menace.

"Come to ask service of me Jack Sparrow?" She still didn't looked at him, but her voice was softer than usual.

"It is your job to tell me what I've come here for, you tell me." Jack was able to mask all his intentions, and keep the tension from his voice. He sounded flippant. Almost, but not quite, like his old self.

Tia lifted the water skin and poured the last portion of water into the basin without ceremony. In the better light it was simple to tell that all the theatrics before hadn't been necessary. The candles were not lit, there was no flash of light, and the bowl upon closer examination might have turned out not to be silver at all. All the flash and majesty of the early show was just that, a show. Parlor tricks to keep Will's attention just long enough to fulfill that part of the bigger plan. Jack didn't miss any of the glitter, he had seen this before.

Now that he thought about it he had seen Tia's little ritual the last time just before she had sent him of to Port Royal the last time. "To find de way to fortune and also de prize you been seekin'." When he had asked if the Pearl was in Port Royal she had said no, refusing to elucidate any further except to tell him, "Listen for an opportune splash of water."

When he had remembered it later it all seemed clear. If he hadn't saved Elizabeth, then he never would have been arrested, met William, or in the long run got the Pearl back at all. However, now as he stood watching Tia bend over her seeing dish, furrowing her brow, he realized that her real plans for him had all been verily muddled by the events of the night.

"Aha." She said, without sounding like this was unexpected

"Aha?"

"We are sailing toward de great future I had seen for us so long ago." Tia Dalma pulled off an incredible feat of speech, sounding at once bored, urgent, wistful with memory.

Jack bent over the bowl himself, looking at the images that flashed in frenzied bursts across the waters surface. Being so near to a window of the future didn't bother him at all, but he had no gift for Seeing, and the pictures were just blotches of color on a rippling pool.

"I remember." He laughed bitterly, "The first day we met, it was. You said I had the touch of destiny then. But plans you had for me then, eh?" He had been only 17 then, and Tia had been very much the way she was now, petulant yet kind in her own way, unearthly yet beautiful. He had been 17 and stupid, a cynic and pirate already, but they had been some of the happiest years of his life, after Arabella…

"Your destiny approaches swiftly Jack Sparrow, and id be brought by de wind, and id have sails…and cannon and death too id bring in its wake."

"So this is all? My destiny is to die at sea, hopelessly outnumbered, and come face to face with each and every man I hate in this world? Not a bad way to go, one might say." From the look on his face that one wasn't Jack. He hadn't said he would die 'alone' but he hadn't had to, Tia heard it. Jack shook of his gruesome thoughts.

"It be your destiny, but a great one it is, for you will captain the flag ship, yea, even the ship that will lead da pirate fleet to either victory of dere last stand for freedom." Jack scoffed at freedom. It was overrated now. He had all the freedom he could contain and still he was a slave to that he could not have, and what he wouldn't give to be a slave to that alone and the devil take what freedom he couldn't bear to posses. "Dis is what I see. There will be blood in the water. The boy," She spoke of Will, there was no one else, "will finish the change in dat one day and be another man for a differen' time. De ships will splinter and burn and sink, the great beast will fall away at last but take the good down to meet death wid it. The sunset will fall and the lives of all who enter will be somfin other den what they was before."

'I don't care for your witch speak or your prophecies or your destinies. You know what I want to know so tell me that. Don't cloud the issue with a well spoken verse, it clouds my head." Tia sighed, expecting this, but like all bad news she new before the fact it was hard to swallow.

She waved her hand over her hand over the water and looked to see for herself what she knew would be there, unchangeable like a carving in stone. "She dies."

The world spun for one sickening minute but Jack stayed on his feet, though it took all his will power to keep form collapsing. He opened his mouth to ask when, but as Tia had explain possibly a million times, Time didn't exist in the way we think of it in the future. What happens happens but when is something only dealt with in the past. Taking the cowards way out he asked the easier question, the one he didn't fear as much as the other, because he couldn't guess the answer.

"How?"

"A bullet through the heart, painless, instant." Jack closed his eyes. He could at least have been happy for that, but he wasn't.

The second question was the hardest, even worse than all the others he could have thought of. He feared its answer because he knew it; he sensed it in his bones, down into his very being. He knew that its answer would have been the same if the question had pertained to Arabella. But his thought acted faster than his mind could dig up things against it, and he asked the one word question the crackled with electricity as it hung in the air. "Why?"

Tia was almost as choked as he was, but she spoke because she had to tell him the truth. "For you Jack."

"No…" Came the inevitable denial.

"Id be fixed."

"Don't say that!" Jack yelled despite his attempted, self imposed calm.

"I WILL!" Tia Dalma was fierce. She was never fierce. Her eye shot flames. "She will die Jack, and dwill be because of you!"

"You knew this all the time! From the beginning, back even before all this started!" Jack was irate. His hands in such tight fists the knuckles were white.

"We knowed dat weren't the only question you came to have answered, so what were id den?

"Why all these elaborate measures? Why all the damned intrigue? The ice? The intricate planning forcing us into these bloody convenient situations…like tonight? It's almost like you are trying to kill her!" Jack swung his arm across the table and smashed an inkwell onto the floor.

"I had to! It were meant to be!"

"Who the hell made it meant to be?! That's no reason, none at all. You have no cause, purpose or right to meddle in my life. What possessed you to do that?" He stopped and was silent for a long time. She didn't speak either, they were both no doubt remembering that for a very long time now Tia had always meddled in Jack's affairs, and it had never bother him before, in fact, he had expected it. But Elizabeth had never been so deeply involved before, so there was no doubt as to what had caused the change of heart.

She spoke with a tremor in her voice. "Because you love her and it were my fault! I ruined yur life, knowing what would happen when you came from da locker I did it anyway. I can't unruin it but I can change dis one ting and I will change it before I die!" Jack had never seen Tia like this. She was flushed and upset, and he couldn't understand it, never having seen her out of her easy calm, much like his own usual attitude, that gave the impression that she had everything under control.

"I never asked you to change it." He whispered.

"I knowed dat you wouldn't." She rested her head on his shoulder, reminding him of the ounce of humanity she still had. He had forgiven her, known that he would, how could he not?

* * *

The days passed quickly after that. It was amazing how simple things where when you had a plan, and no expectations for good fortune. The disquiet of the sea was forgotten in the ships own false good humor. The crew should have been anxious but wasn't. And the vain resignation to their fates, grim and seeming to end in death, was echoed in Jack, Will, and Elizabeth's faces, thoughts, and actions.

Will thought the just maybe, he could live. There was a very slim chance of it, there was no doubt. But he had survived the first night, knowing that he didn't have Elizabeth's love and thought he could almost hear the glassy pieces of his broken heart clinking against each other as he walked, he knew that whether he wanted to or not he could move on and live and find a purpose outside of her. He would save his father, or fail to save his father, and after that the wind could guide him for all that it mattered.

Jack didn't have a purpose so he made one up, hopeless as the prospect was, he had to succeed in changing the future or there really would be nothing left to live for. If anyone could do it, it would be him, wouldn't it? He was Captain Jack Sparrow, wasn't he? Though maybe not, not any more. There wasn't enough of him left to claim that name, so he would be simply Jack like he had been to Arabella, and do the best he could.

He men noticed something different in his manner, and surprisingly it was for the better. Jack, finding nothing left to mourn, because what good was it to bemoan what you had lost when that thing, namely himself, would in future be responsible for killing the last thing in the world he could care about, and in fact love. So in despair he decided to be happy about nothing and continue the life he didn't have, in appearance at least, as if he had it still. In his mind he had already decided what was best to do. The plan was made. Stable and immovable like it was forged out of iron, and though it might hurt Elizabeth more than it hurt him, if it saved her life it was worth whatever cost.

The weeks flew bye like they were eager to get somewhere. There was no conversation between Jack, Elizabeth, and Will but the simple everyday kind. A nod might be exchanged between the past lovers. Jack might ask Elizabeth to bring him a coil of rope, a chart, or to give Gibbs an order concerning the sails, but he never looked her in the eye, and addressed her only as Miss Swann with a cold calculation. There was nothing else. In a way it was kind, none of them forced to face their next action, yet.

Elizabeth had a plan too. If plans were becoming the new fashion she would not be conspicuous. However, she had to wait for the right time, or the time that she finally gathered the strength to follow through. Her plan was the full equivalent of jumping out into space and asking the empty air to catch her. Whether she was claiming that which she had, reaching out for something that wasn't there, or failing to gain something she had lost forever having fully deserved to. Whatever this was, she would jump when the time came and beg the open air to be merciful. She hoped.

Tia Dalma was as good as her word. She summoned up an unnatural wind, warm on cool nights, brisk on hot days, always fully in their sails adjusting direction when they did. The ship moved fast than anyone, save Jack, had ever seen her sail before. The same speed was true of all the other ships. The Pearl pull ahead but the ragtag fleet of ships was never out of sight. A current followed them and pulled them yet faster toward the record time they were shooting for. It was a lot of water for three short months.

If Jack and Tia were on speaking terms they didn't show it. The crew perceived a chill, maybe angry silence, not that they didn't expect it. Nothing on one small ship remained very secret for long. But they didn't see right. Where they saw stony impassivity, Tia saw silent mourning. Where Pintel and Raggetti missed a meaningful glance, Jack noticed the flash of her eyes that told him not to worry, it was alright. Something very private was shared between the friends, so on a boat devoid of kept secrets no one ever seemed to notice the light under Jack's door, or the whispered midnight conversation and the disclosure of a sealed outcome.

Pulling into Tortuga was surreal. Everyone shook their heads when they looked around, to rid themselves of the remains of their half-dream. The past months had been so quiet and frighteningly uneventful it was hard to remember exactly what had happened. More than one man asked himself if he had ever really left. Mist rolled over the bay groggily like a sleepwalker on a mission, and made the bay look ghostly.

Tortuga's port was filled to overflowing with ships that had abandoned the seas company. Where the Heron's Neck had looked like a wood of white leaved trees, Tortuga looked like the haunted remains of a burned out forest, roamed by the specters of the sea. Only a faint red glow, the town and tavern, showed any sign of light. While the other ships pulled in behind them Jack ordered his crew to head for the Faithful Bride and inform them of the arrival. Jack would follow behind. If Elizabeth, with clockwork predictability, did what he guessed she might then everything might be averted.

Elizabeth waited in a shadowed door way and watched the crew slip one by one off the Black Pearl until only she and Jack were left. She stepped to the edge of the crevasse, waving her last chance to reconsider farewell, and dropped into free fall.

"Jack." He stopped on the gangplank at her call, tossed everything he really wanted to say and do into a locked safe in his mind, and turned to look at her with his practiced stone façade firmly in place.

"Yes, Miss Swann?"

"Jack, wait…um." This was mad. She couldn't do it. "I am…I am sorry. I am. I would do anything, anything at all, to take back what I did to you. You know what I am now, and I know I can't undo any of this, but if you can give me as second chance…I would…I would do absolutely anything for it." Everything she wanted to say tumbled out of her faster and faster in disjointed syllables. Free fall was exhilarating and terrifying. "Do you…believe me?"

Jack crumbled a little bit more inside with every word spoken. If he didn't stop it now he didn't know if he could finish. If he didn't push her away sharply, cut her deeply, drive her to hate him as intensely as he hated himself then something irrevocable might happen. It was for the best. "There is a strange thing about kisses. After the first one, they are all very much the same…" He thought he heard the faint sound of her heart shattering, if not he could see it in her glistening eyes. He considered briefly throwing himself of the peer into the churning water. But he had to finish it with the final fatal blow. "It was a game, Miss Swann, a lark. Nothing more. What did you expect from me? Why don't you go find William now? I am sure he is wondering where you are. You are so prone to wander."

Quietly "You really hate me so completely?"

"You think you deserve less? Not for you, only complete loathing is fit for your particular cruelties." Jacks expression communicated all the venom of complete sincerity. A performance of genius. Unsurprising. He was the best liar her knew.

But it couldn't be true, not to her. she remembered it, the way he had looked at her. He had kissed her and he had cared for her then, in some way deeper than this.

"I can't believe that."

"Believe it. It is the truth, unadulterated."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's just it Jack. I don't believe anything you say." She moved close enough that she could she herself reflected in his eyes. "So prove it then." She pushed the compass into his hands.

Jack looked down at it like it was poisonous and it might bite him. He looked at her, then at the compass and back to her again. Before he could refuse vocally, she flicked the lid opened and the arrow spun wildly.

"It doesn't work of me." He protested.

"That was then, let's look at now." Still the needle whirled in first this direction then that.

"I don't want you, Elizabeth. Now or ever, here or otherwise." They didn't watch the compass anymore.

"Then what do you want?!"

Jack's grip tightened on the wood, and in one smooth motion he threw the compass, with no consideration for it's worth, out over the water, small against the sky, and drowned out the small splash with his shout. "Nothing anymore! Can't you understand that!"

* * *

Smoke hung like London smog over the table as old sailors worked feverishly at their pipes, the light of the embers giving their eyes an evil glow. There was the sound of chairs scrapping against to floor, people trying to get a better vantage point to watch the plan unfolding.

The table was actually three tables, the long rough ones that the Faithful Bride's proprietor set out for large parties from powerful crews. The history of long nights and animated arguments was carved into its surface, gunpowder burns and deep gouges along the edges from stray cutlass swings. One end sat the liaisons from the Asian Fleets, Sao Feng's rather grotesque countenance glowering from the foot of the table. Working their way along the left and right were various captains of the strongest ships or groups of ships in the bay and around the island. Among them were Anamaria and her first mate, Barbossa, O'Reilly and others. At the darker end were Will, Jack, Tia, and the twice former Commodore Norrington in a half drunken slump. Jack drummed his fingers agitatedly across his for head to stimulate thought.

"You are certain that they will be using this formation?" He gestured to the roughly dawn diagram on the table before them.

Norrington groaned at the question. "I have told you already, more than once I believe, that they would be crazy not to use it, it is excellent for storming a bay and bombing an island. And I am completely sure that this is the exact formation, because I created the plan myself. However…" He raised one finger in the air and wavered unsteadily, giving away just how much he had had to drink since the meeting had begun. "It is not fit if we attack here, here and…uh…here." He tapped the picture at three points, "With a small group of ships, headed by a strong galleon and prepared to take out the flag ships."

"Den we must decide wad ships will lead dese fleets. Da Pearl beats da strongest easily, don't it." Tia struck fear and awe into pirates that looked on. Her friends noticed it, and she liked it.

Jack waved it off; his ship's superiority was all but established. "Obviously, but many of the other ships are well enough identical in strength to each other. What's lacked here isn't flag ships, darling, but steady leadership. I can't be expected to captain them all."

"Aye, we need captains at the head we can trust." Gibbs piped up, easily audible from somewhere in the midst of the throng.

"I will need three captains to volunteer their ships."

"The Sapphire's Pride is yours, if you ask it. But what other captain do you want for her?" Anamaria looked down the table at Jack, feeling strangely obligated to help him, for not rational reason.

"Thank ye, I was hoping you might chip in. I want you on that ship, don't get me wrong, but I need William to captain her."

"Why?" Anamaria and several other people, including Will, all asked at the same time.

"Simple," Said Jack, looking at everyone in the room like they were morons not to have thought of it themselves. "The Sapphire will start here, in then central spot, leading the central fleet. She will face the H.M.S Endeavor and therefore be the target for certain attacks that will require William's peculiar leadership." Will didn't follow, and was caught of guard by Jack's sudden faith in his seamanship. "Don't look at me like that, lad, it's in your blood."

"The Fury will lead a fleet." Barbossa sneered at his rival and partner. "But there'll be no captain but me."

"Excellent Barby, I was hoping you would speak up. Otherwise I might have had to volunteer you involuntarily. Your questionable crew can figure which end of the cannon point out I assume?"

Barbossa glared and found no reason to answer, but the monkey Jack shrieked. "Good that's settled, we need a third."

"Mister Sparrow." The generously sized O'Reilly spoke through the tobacco induced fog. "I mayn't be the first choice, but the Irishmen will serve the purpose. She has guns aplenty and my men, weren't pirates all their lives. Everyone navy trained with the cannon."

"Deserters? Honestly, mate, I like you more and more every time you open your mouth. Three we have, now all we need is luck, a miracle and a fair amount of gunpowder."

"Two questions, Captain." James Norrington looked sideways at Jack with clear dislike and skepticism. "Firstly, if the Black Pearl is so clearly out strongest ship, then why aren't YOU leading the central fleet and facing their flag ship? And secondly, why, God help us, do you want HIM, to captain a ship that the woman would likely have a better go with?" Norrington threw a derisive thumb in Will's direction. Will was too curious to be offended.

"Because, my friend, The Endeavor is not their strongest ship." Puzzlement skipped from face to face.

"There is another, bigger," He laughed, "Much bigger, threat coming from another direction."

"The Flying Dutchman." Will supplied, realization dawning at last. Now that Beckett had that heart, if what Norrington had told them was right, he would have the Dutchman's crew at his beckon call.

"Aye, the most heavily armed ship in the water without question, who's crew, if you recall, has an unpleasant habit of prancing from deck to deck as they wish in a blink. I will need the Pearl to draw them away from the battle, and keep them distracted as long as I might."

"With their superior gun power, how long do you think you will last?" A random sailor called.

"Long enough." Jack spoke so quietly that no one would have heard him in all hadn't been straining to catch what he said. "I have a plan."

"And what happens to my father?"

"What about him? No stop, don't tell me for the hundredth time how you mean to save him. You can save him only save old Bill by stabbing the Heart. A heart no doubt that'll be found on the Endeavor, in the hands of monsieur Beckett, who I will have you know I sincerely wanted to kill myself."

"Then let me go with you! My sword will be of use there, and Anamaria can captain the Sapphire's Pride better than I can anyway." Will stood sharply, breaking his promise was all too real of a possibility.

Jack snapped at him, loosing his thinly layered cool, "For the love of all that is good and holy, will you sit down, calm down and listen to me? The fate of this town could very likely rest in your hands, so put all those squirrelly thoughts of heroism, honor and a glorious death out of your mind and listen to me very carefully? How many of us have survived a Kraken attack, eh? How many have survived two?" No one stood, or spoke but all eyes were on Will. He was possibly the only man living who could claim such a thing, and that was something indeed. "I will, yes, be engaging Davy and his cursed crew, but your ship will be the Kraken's first target if things go ill with us. I don't have anyone better Will, it has to be you."

Everyone knew it was true, and he conceded hoping her wouldn't be guilty of failing his father because of this choice.

"I leave it to several able men to decide what ships will be in which fleet, as for me I need only a limited crew, six at most, for the Pearl for what I plan. Who will come with me?" Jack stopped himself before saying that only deathwishers may apply. Gibbs stood out of the crowd eagerly. Also three other men he didn't know by name, all seemed fit and willing, and altogether that was five with himself… "Just one more?"

"I'll do it." Someone said softly from the corner of the room. As always the voice made Jack's heart beat with an uneven rhythm. Elizabeth slipped through the crowd dexterously and stood between Will and James, looking not at Jack but at the roughly hewn chart. "I'm nearly as good as Will with a blade now."

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him. "I want to do it."

He tried again but she wouldn't let him speak. She had made her decision, or it had made her. If she died somewhere at the bottom of this uncertain pit, so be it. There was not turning back in free fall, and she knew without doubt that she wouldn't turn back if she could.

"I won't take no for an answer, Jack." She smiled her resolve. "You'll have to shoot me."

But that was exactly what he was afraid of.


	10. Chapter 14

(Chapter Fifteen)

Blood and Seawater

"Mister Mercer?"

The foreboding figure of Cutler Beckett's clerk stepped into the headroom of the Endeavor. He had several papers in his hands, reports from EITC spies, and looked even more grim than usual.

"It amazes me Mercer, how such a simple thing as getting out of the bay seems to take longer to accomplish, than it took Magellan to circumnavigate the earth." Beckett was very calm, letting his voice take on only the semblance of a sharp edge, and leaving Mercer to guess how angry he really was.

"We have been delayed."

"That, I can see without spectacles." Beckett picked invisible lint from his lace cuffs. "Are you going to tell me what is delaying us, or stand there like a hat stand and wait for someone to walk by and hang a coat on you?"

"There are new reports from out scout ship near Tortuga."

Cutler held out his hands for the reports and scanned through them quickly, his expression becoming gradually more pinched. "This informs me that there are suddenly twice or more the number of ships in the Tortuga harbor than was originally thought. It also tells me that there seems to be a great deal of organization on the enemy's part. How can this be?" Lord Beckett remained almost congenial, like this was the sort of conversation you might have over a glass of brandy and Mercer was a stockbroker trifling about an ill cut jacket.

"I don't—"

"Of course you don't. Just like you didn't know that James Norrington has been sighted in the company of a certain Jack Sparrow…the same Sparrow that you assured me would be dead somewhere in the far east three months ago. Just like you did not know that Jack Sparrow could organize and mobilize the entire pirate fleet in three short days with the help of our own former commodore against the fleet you said could destroy them, and with more ships than you thought they had in the water. Is this an accurate assessment Mercer, or did I overstate the facts?"

"Completely accurate my lord." Mercer didn't frighten easily, but Cutler's calm appraisals made him nervous at the best of times, and he knew that his lord Beckett had no prohibition against shooting the messenger among the papers on his desk.

"Then there is an obvious question that must be asked."

The clerk waited patiently for Beckett to ask the question before he realized that Beckett was waiting for the answer. "What question?"

Beckett bit of each word as he spoke it, "Can we still destroy the fleet in these new circumstances?"

"Easily."

"Then why am I still here?" Beckett raised his voice for the first time, his usual almost inhuman patience worn down to its final threadbare tatters.

"We are waiting only for you order…and the Governor." Beckett dropped his head into his hands and massaged his temples. His pulse was pounding in his head like it wanted to escape. This was the eve of his final victory, and the idiotic, ridiculous man couldn't even ready his things and be down to the dock, when given two hours to prepare.

"I want him on the ship and comfortable before we make way. He needs to think that we are not going to be under any fire. Is that clear? He needs to think we are sailing out symbolically and retrieving his daughter. Then, when I give the signal, an accident will happen and our problems with that buffoon will be over. Also, have lackeys go through the ships and give the captains an precise description of Elizabeth Swann, I don't want her sailing away form this battle either."

Mercer nodded and made a note on a small notebook bound in red leather. He noticed he hadn't been dismissed yet, so there must have been something left to say. Beckett worked hard to develop fully a nervous tick in his left eye. His eyes lingered on the smooth wooden handle of his pistol, carved with running horses and inlayed with silver, and found himself wondering is such a pretty thing could really kill someone in cold blood.

"If there is an concern about your safety, I can assure you that extra precautions will be made."

"You will have enough men on board to keep me safe?"

"Yes, and an escape vessel should things go wrong." He added when he saw Beckett's look "Things will not go wrong."

Beckett was in a bad mood, and when in a bad mood he tended to preach to the little people around him, reinforcing the idea that he was the one in charge. "It is almost finished, Mercer. The final broken pieces of the pirate dilemma swept away at last. Then we will all get what we want. I will have the governorship here, and who knows, with out new found power maybe even more in time. The disorder to the sea will be controlled. And when we have been established then I will bury the last remnants of savagery in these islands and destroy the Heart of Davy Jones, and the last shreds of old order will be gone at last from the Caribbean." Beckett took in a deep breath, as if her could already smell his victory, and looked out the window to see his deadly fleet. "We WILL raise anchor soon?"

"As soon as humanly possible."

"Faster than that." Beckett snorted, and waved Mercer away.

* * *

The morning was dark, not just with the clouds that spit steady burst of wet onto the bustling pirate company, but also in the mood of the sailors. No one said it aloud, though sometimes one friend would whisper a grinning good luck and good bye to their companion, the one they had grown close too through the months and years of fighting and working side by side. The truth of the matter was that no one pirate had any hope of coming back alive, and each one was damned proud just to be a part of it.

Preparations were almost completed by the time the Pearl and the Brethren arrived. Under the direction of the former commodore the pirates of Tortuga had readied gunpowder, shot, and cannon. All that remained to be done was the distribution of the weapons and ammunition and the strategic positioning of each of the ships in fleet formation.

Will expected the crew to be angry and uncooperative with their new captain, but he was mistaken. His new crew was quiet but respectful. His instructions weren't questioned not matter how ridiculous they might have seemed. Even when he commanded them to hoist the larger part of the powder store in a net about the center of the ship, and ready oil and kindling for quick fires all along the railing.

The Sapphires glory was the proverbial picture of the phrase "shipshape". One of the finest ships his has seen in his piratical experience and also, hands down, the cleanest. Whatever these women pirates were, they were orderly.

Anamaria didn't resent her recent demotion. Jack always had a purpose for everything he did, and if they would be meeting up with a mythical sea monster, with an affinity for swallowing ships whole, she would take any advantage she could have.

William was taller than she remembered, if not physically at least in his presence. When she had known him before he had of course been brave and dashing, but over all he was just a land lover, and under it all she knew a part of him had been afraid. That fear, of the sea, of pirates, of himself, had gone. He was different in a way hard to describe, more…buccaneer? Maybe? Whatever it was, she rather liked it.

Her original crew was not all she had this time around. Norrington was with her too, for good or ill, to help direct the attack from the best position he could think of. He was sober at least, and that was something. If anything bothered him it wasn't the fight. He was disquieted, but for another reason. As a woman, and beautiful herself, Anamaria could guess what was troubling him, it was troubling Will too. Elizabeth's presence on the Black Pearl. Had Swann's girl not guessed what everyone else already knew? The Pearl was a funeral barge; it wasn't sailing home.

* * *

The Black Pearl had dropped anchor away from the rest of the ships. It was setting out first and it was going in a different direction. Pintel and Raggetti, not among the small crew the Pearl required to make way, rowed the long boat that carried the six, babbling back and forth between them and sometimes to Jack.

"You're still pulling too hard."

"I don't sees why it matters how fast I pull." Raggetti sniffed rubbing his wooden eye. "As long as you pull the same."

"What's your rush anyway? Afeared they might leave without you?" Pintel sneered. As far as the outside world was concerned the only words the ever passed between the two were various curses and bickering. Pintel and Raggetti were friends, practically tied together at the elbow for years now, so how could they help it if in the end they just sounded like and old married couple.

"I just don't want to miss nothin'"

Elizabeth really wasn't paying any attention to the trip, or even thinking about he destination. She hadn't thought it through thoroughly when she first volunteered to be the sixth crew member. It seemed natural, meant to be that she should be the sixth one. Now that she did think about it she realized she had had and even deeper purpose. She had a suspicion about Jack, more than just an inkling that he did care about her more than he would ever admit. Her reason for joining the crew wasn't that she thought she could do any real good, or that she might be able to help Jack in his plan. Those were factors of course, but the reason she knew, was really that if she was their Jack would have to stay alive to protect her. He would have to try to come back.

"Tis strange though…" Raggetti mused aloud.

"What isn't strange about this?"

"I mean about the life boat. Why 'ave we got to bring her back to the fleet?"

"That's simple you nit. We've got to bring 'er back cause the fleet'll need all of the escape boats she can get."

"That's just what I meant, why don't the Pearl need no life boats?" Jack stopped them before they could muse further.

"Would you two shut it? You're giving me a headache to rival that of any other in the world to date, savvy?"

Pulling along side the Pearl Gibbs and the four men who had come along climbed into the ship first, followed shortly after by Jack. Elizabeth didn't seem to notice they had arrived for several moments.

Jack reached watched her carefully from above. She was very beautiful. She shook herself out of reverie and began to climb.

"For you, Jack." Tia had told him. That was the reason she was about to die. There was no way around it; fates grim plan for her was set in stone. How long did she have left, he wondered.

Jack reached down over the side and offered her a hand up. "Thanks" She said, before she looked up at his too serious face, and stopped.

"I'm sorry Elizabeth." He said darkly, holding her wrist tightly, his grim a vice. "Nothing is set in stone."

Her eyes formed the question she didn't have time to speak, before the heavy but of Jack's pistol came down and struck her soundly along the side of her head. She dropped like a sack of loose rocks into the waiting arms of the surprised Raggetti.

"Take her back to Will. Tell him to keep special care of her, eh?"

Jack's guilt ridden expression made the drizzle that fell around them seem wetter. Gibbs, who had watched the scene, felt compelled to say something. Lamely, he said the only thing her could think of short of telling his captain he would have done the same thing. "I was in love with a girl once." He didn't mention what frightful bad luck she was.

"Was she pretty?"

"Prettier than you."

That made Jack smile. A sad little movement of the face that you might expect to find on the dead visage of a martyr, serene it was, but also very cold and futile.

"You don't have to come with me. I wouldn't hold it against you if you decided to forego this final voyage."

"Wouldn't feel right not to join you. You know me better than that."

"That I do. You have some rum on you by chance?"

Gibbs laughed, "You know me better than THAT." And handed Jack his flask.

"Did you ready the gunpowder?"

"Everything is prepared."

* * *

Silence has a taste, Tia decided while she watched the preparations. It was like dry wine, or possibly stale water. It filled the nose and throat with a stinging ache, and made the ears ring. Silence sounded across the bay as she made her final decision, the decision that was never hers to make really, but it was still her choice. She was going to join the Sapphire's crew, and let fate sew up the rest.

Recalling Jack's advice, entreaty, on one of those cold nights when they had locked themselves away from the rest of the crew and talked in hushed voices about her future, or lack there of.

"But you don't have to go there. A choice is a choice, nothing is written out for you."

"I must do what I must do; much like you will choose dat choice you like the less to do what you cannot undo." Jack grimaced through his smile.

"Don't talk in riddles. Never saying what you mean, or at least meaning what you say without letting anyone understand what that is. It's almost sinful."

Tia smiled proudly, in the best of spirits. Jack didn't understand it of course. But she was resolved, not just resigned to her end, and no matter what right and wrong might have to say about it in the end, she was content to flow with destiny yet again.

"Don't do it." He said again with more force in his voice.

"Would you give up everything we are fightin' for to 'ave me safely on anoder ship, Jack Sparrow?" She laughed at him. He was so much the same person, even now. She could still see that speck of selfishness left over that would have said yes to her. That wouldn't have cared about the fate of the Brethren if he still got what he wanted in the end.

But whether it was because he wouldn't say yes, or couldn't say yes, he said no in the end because that is what a good man would say. Jack was being strangely heroic in spite of himself, and he hated it intensely.

It was true that Tia loved Jack, she had always loved him, or something about. Even from the time when he stepped into her shack, not entirely a man yet, still the remaining coldness of grief in his eyes. That moment had quite literally changed her. It wasn't that Jack had come in and turned her life upside down, upending her careful routines and strange practices. Indeed his request had been a simple one. Her compass was all he wanted, and when at last they had come to an agreement over it he had disappeared for nearly two years without a trace. It was something in his air, way of walking, or the simple sense of purpose in his face and speech. Seeing him for the very first time was like being struck my lightening.

When he had returned, hoping for more help from her, Tia's sense of attachment, fascination, and the familiar touch of destiny she was used to was still there, possibly stronger. Fascination changed faces from partnership to friendship, romance infatuation to what she felt now. How was that? Did she love him like a brother or a son? Or was it a love like the amazement of an astronomer looking into the sky and seeing a shooting star brighter than anything else in the sky.

His concern still made her smile and redden a little with pleasure, a confirmation that even though there connection had changed forms it had never been broken.

If she was being honest with herself she had to say that what she was doing now was as much for him alone as it was for the whole of humanity. He was the center from which all the event that would soon culminate in one bloody conclusion had all come. Who had led William Turner to see his true pirate lineage? Who had saved Miss Swan from a cold wet end? Who had made that deal with Davy Jones and then tried to cheat him out of his bounty? Who had pushed the former commodore down this darkened path? Who had first challenged Lord Beckett's sinister dealings and indeed the whole East India Company? Who had walked into Tia Dalma's hut and changed the face of piracy forever without knowing it?

Captain Jack Sparrow had created this chain reaction. It would result death and destruction and blood coloring the sea crimson. What crime had he ever committed to be punished with bearing that responsibility? All he had ever done was fallen in love with a girl, 16, with auburn hair and blue eyes. All he had ever tried to do was fulfill the last promise he had made to her, to find that treasure that would change their lives. A good man despite all of his careful cultivation of bitterness and ruthlessness.

So it didn't cross her mind to be afraid of what happen next when she stepped onto the Sapphire's Pride, moments before anchor was raised. She bore William's quizzical stare with as smile, and stood at the bow looking out into the horizon, toward oblivion and immortality.

* * *

If it hadn't been raining earnest before, then it certainly was now. Tapping at the shoulders of the Pearls crew as if try to get their attention. While the fleet of pirate sailed to the west toward the battle, and the Pearls sailed slightly south west into the heart of the storm, the storm's center the rotated around the Flying Dutchmen.

Hours passed in quick succession, showing that the moment couldn't warded of by sheer will. Jack paced from the bow of the ship back to the helm, occasionally shouting orders for his small crew to look the disposition of the sails. It didn't change the tediousness of an anxious journey, not did it brighten the steady darkness that was falling deeper and thicker around them while the sky pelted them with warning drops of murky downpour.

* * *

"Awaken the Kraken-uh" The Dutchman's crew hurried to obey, fearing the whip and the unremorseful cruelty of their captain.

Sometimes senseless acts of brutality calmed Davy's nerves. Misery Loves Company was a phrase that gained new meaning for him. In the nights when his memories were closest and he could almost feel heartache coming back to him where there should have never been any feeling again, those were the nights he would take solace in letting the damned souls that crewed his vessel feel a bit of the pain so terrible he had cut out his own heart to be rid of it. It was one of the few comforts he allowed himself.

Today, his men knew, he was worse than usual. From time to time he stomped out of his cabin and would shout for them to work faster, ordering anyone that might slacken the pace ten lashes. The sights and sounds of their pain gave him no pleasure, and he would stomp back into his cabin and start up the frightful serenade that made even the heavens to weep.

He was not himself. Davy Jones, reputed to be the devil himself, had been bested and now his life, and way of life, was being challenged by a sniveling English lord. He found no rest for his pain, and no way to vent his hatred. The man, the one pirate to blame for his lost liberty was already dead.

Still Jones thought of dreadful revenge for Sparrow. Mayhap he would have a chance to use them on Beckett when his charge was over.

When the tragedy of his song again lost its bitter sweetness the Captain marched himself out on deck again to see if they were getting any closer, leaving deep impressions in the wood where his pegged leg struck it. Through the looking glass he saw it, a smile of spite curling his slimy lips. After near a day of sailing to the west he saw Lord Cutler Beckett's armada bearing down on the pirates to the east. Jones could see unnaturally farther than he should have been able, he sneered at Beckett's smug and nervous expression. "He betta not die afore I get my claw around his throat." He spat and panned over to the leader of the buccaneer fleet.

"What is this?" He whispered amazed. "Has fortune so repaid my wrongs? So the thieving charlatan sails into my clutches-uh." That was when he gave the order to raise the beast. If his revenges had been lost for Jack Sparrow, then at least he would finish off Boot-strap's brat and gain some satisfaction from that.

* * *

Before they made way after, but only just after, Pintel and Raggetti came running towards Will, a limp form carried between them.

"Mister Turner!" Pintel yelled to him looking at a loss for what was really going on, water rolling off his bald head and into his eyes, "Uh…Captain…Captain Turner, sir."

Will looked from one face to the other trying to figure out what they were doing here, before he looked down and realized who they were carrying.

The two held Elizabeth's unconscious form between me, Pintel cradling her head and shoulders , Raggetti uncomfortably supporting her legs. "What happened?" Will asked, calmly enough that he surprised himself.

The pair looked at each other and remained silent, wordlessly agreeing that Will wouldn't like the truth when he found out and they weren't going to be the ones to tell him.

Elizabeth looked fretful in her unwilling sleep. Will pushed her damp hair from her face and saw she was bleeding a littler from a shallow cut on her head.

"We have a message from Captain Sparrow…Captain." Pintel moved onto an easier subject.

Raggetti jumped in, he knew this one. "He says to take care of her." He nodded several times vigorously. They both seemed frightened at how Will might react.

When the new Captain of the Sapphire finally spoke it was to himself, "What is Jack thinking? She's in more danger here than she would be anywhere else." He sighed and drummed his fingers across his forehead to encourage thought.

"Take her below deck, find somewhere safe for her to rest, on the extra sail material or something…And for God's sake stop looking at me with your mouths hanging opened and ask the first mate for your orders!" The saluted heartily, almost dropping the poor girl, and stumbled off to obey their orders, as surprised at Will's forcefulness and leadership as he was himself.

Everything moved quickly as soon they were in open sea. After that there was less frenzied activity. Those who weren't occupied with a necessary task broke off into their own groups and began to chatter lightheartedly to ward of thought of the fight ahead. Tia stayed alone at the bow, serene and quiet, looking at a point on the horizon as if she watched a complicated drama unfolding on an invisible stage.

Will too stared into empty space arranging plans in his head he had already been told would fail. He felt a presence behind him and turned around.

"Ana." He said in surprise, "Maria...Anamaria." He amended embarrassed, feeling her title should be more formal. He didn't remember when their relationship had moved to a first name basis, but then he had never learned her last name.

"Ana is fine." She waved him off, apparently not a girl much interested by formality. "What are you thinking about?"

William bit his lip and considered, "Failure." He answered truthfully. She raised an eyebrow and laughed at him. He laughed too. Anamaria as he remembered her from before was a severe, dangerous, young woman who appeared willing and able to best anyone within her general vicinity who looked at her the wrong way. Not much had changed except now she didn't seem to hold him in such contempt, and seemed to have grown a sense of humor.

Her expression grew more serious, "I think we all have." They stood close beside each other and started to watch the invisible drama. "What is different?"

"Hm?"

"About you, something is different." They still looked off into the distance but Will became suddenly more aware of their proximity, when he heard her voice close to his ear.

"If you ever figure that out tell me first. I don't know what has happened, but…I don't think I am the same person I was two years ago." Will seemed to be considering this for the first time, but he wasn't. What had started it? He didn't know. The most radical turning point had to be the Kiss, the one he knew now to be Elizabeth's betrayal of Jack, that moment had shaken him to the point that he had begun to question his picture of the future, and the veracity of his past. It had started, though, much earlier than that, with his first encounter with Jack Sparrow.

Anamaria watched him carefully as his face changed with thought, with admiration. What was different? She wouldn't presume to guess, but whatever it was she liked it. This new gritty William Turner wasn't at all the one she had known.

He felt her gaze moving over his face, and changed the subject hurriedly. "You seem to be doing well for yourself, though." He cleared his throat nervously. He hadn't acted this way around any woman since…

"Well enough. Jack kept his word, surprisingly. He got me a better ship." She laughed.

"That is surprising." Will almost growled thinking about Jack, not matching her light tone.

"There's something wrong between you." She stated the fact.

The truth of the matter slipped from his lips before her could water down the sentiment, "I hate him."

Anamaria was plainly shocked. She didn't know about the events, all centering around Elizabeth Swann, that had driven the two to this point, but William was either the best liar she had ever seen or telling her the unadulterated truth.

"Why?" She asked, so utterly amazed that Will wished he had lied to her. "After everything that you did for one another? You saved him from the gallows! He helped you get back you woman! I was under the apparently greatly mistaken assumption that you and he were friends."

"I don't owe him anything. He has never done anything for me that he hasn't negated with another false action. I have never done him a kindness I didn't end up regretting. If it was in my power I would have stopped him from ever coming to Port Royal and ruining my life." He threw caution to the wind and let it tumble across the grass like a discarded paper in a gale. If he was going to tell her the truth there was no point in stopping at "I hate him." Let her know it all and make a judgment.

Anamaria was still amazed. "You would reverse everything he has done?"

"Yes!" Will said without reservation. Then he thought about it carefully again. "No…He once saved Elizabeth from drowning, I will always be thankful for that…Oh Damn! Elizabeth! I completely forgot her! I should have gone to check on her as soon as we made way." Anamaria was unhappy with this, though it pleased her that she had distracted him from his fiancé, even for such a short time. Her own feelings, what seemed to be quickly mounting into the makings of a girlish crush, embarrassed her.

"I need to go look to her." He excused himself and prepared to go. She reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve.

"No time for that." She pointed to the blur that spanned the whole horizon. The EITC armada.

* * *

Gibbs lowered the spy glass, "All I see's a lot of empty water, captain."

"He's out there. You don't know him like I do. He'll watch the carnage from far off, but he won't let us cross unchallenged, if he has any taste for revenge." Jack ran his hand over his mouth, thinking. "Keep us steady Master Gibbs, fly our colors."

If they looked north they could see the blur of the two fleets converging. The only sounds were the wind in the sails and the waves lapping against the haul. Everyone waited for the first sounds of cannon.

Jack continued to look off into empty patch of horizon, letting rain run over his hat and face. "He's out there." He said again and squinted to clear his vision. "Masts in the fog." He said, his voice barely a whisper and almost lost in storm sounds.

"You see 'im captain?" Gibbs followed Jack's line of sight and raised the spyglass to his eye again. "There's nothing out there!" He growled again, frustration adding to the wet discomfort and nervous anxiety.

"Jones is there Joshamee, and he's coming." Jack was sounding more like Tia Dalma every moment.

Despite the desperate nature of their circumstances Jack remained distracted. Not surprisingly, since there was nothing he really cared about in peril on this ship. If his plan worked his ship mates might survive, hopefully. Instead of worrying about them, their fates out of his control, he ran his rational for getting Elizabeth through his head over and over again, looking for holes in the logic.

What had possessed him to move her from his ship to a potentially more danger situation? What was the reasoning there? If she had to die "for" him didn't she have to be with him? Didn't she have to make a conscious choice to do so? If that was the way she had to die then no matter how dangerous her surroundings she could survive. But if the plan was to save her from that fate, having taken away the possibility for that fate, could she then die anther way and would it be his fault and would that qualify as dying "for" him?

He shook his head to try rid himself of this confusing circular logic. Whatever the case, if he died on the Dutchman, she couldn't die for his sake.

* * *

"Orders Captain?" A half-human coral encrusted mate asked again tremulous. Davy didn't really hear. His eye's were on the slight bulge in the water rushing toward the Sapphire with all speed and imagining the Krakens hunger, making it his own, anticipating the carnage. Out of the corner of his mind he realized he was being addressed.

"Hmph, Orders? What for, ye have my orders." Jones looked down what pass for his nose, at the crewman standing by him, murderous.

"The ship, sir, to starboard."

"What ship?" He grumbled, realizing he had probably just been told the situation and hadn't been listening.

Rather than answer and risk loosing a limb, he proffered a barnacled telescope to let the Captain see for himself. Jones scanned the horizon hungrily. "Ah!" He rasped, shaking his head, and making the tentacles that hung from his face writhe. "What fortuitous circumstance be this. Jack Sparrow, alive and broken! How did I not feel this before? Such profound agony, tis incredible!" He stopped and smiled grotesquely at the prospects. Everything he had planned in vain seemed to be within his reach again, not only that but the Locker, his Locker, had done it's job admirably.

In all his years Davy Jones had rarely felt so extreme a torment. Jack Sparrow was tearing himself apart. His pain was so terrible it reminded Jones of…his own.

He laughed a villainous cackle. Another punishment crossed his mind, but not for Jack. "Bring me Bill Turner."

Coral-head, surprised at his Captains sudden good spirits stumbled off to retrieve the prisoner, before the winds changed.

In the cold dark depths of the ship wet, grime and stagnation ruled. What was forced to live there hammered out a miserable existence bested only by those who lived above for desolation. Even in this hell of hells there was an even darker place, always bitingly cold furnished with nothing but the filth that sloshed around on the floor. Boot-strap Bill stared out the minute barred window of the Flying Dutchman's own brig, half awake with the inability to rest, half dead from exposure and starvation…and still he was unable to die.

The crewman who had long since forgotten his proper name hauled him to his feet hissing, "Captain wants to see you on deck."

"Find something else he can take from me, then?" Bill Turner spat bitterly.

His new companion didn't sympathize with him, just jabbed him in the back to move him along and said, "You'll have to ask him that, now push off."

Jones grinned unrestrainedly as Boot-strap emerged, twice soaked by the rain, and paler than a ghost's shadow.

"I thought you would like to see this." The Captain pointed his claw to the place where the Black Pearl crawled closer through the dense fog. "It seems that someone is trying to save you. Can you guess-uh? D'you have any idea who it might be? Our friend, Jack Sparrow. And look, to north, your son lives and breaths. Valiantly he'll fight to survive my noble beast yet again." Davy sighed as if the whole seen was overwhelming. "Who knew men could survive as many deaths as they've had. Like father like son."

Davy placed a companionable arm around Boot-strap's shoulder. His tentacle fingers wriggling around with minds of their own, making Turner's flesh crawl. "D'you remember, offhand, the promise ye made me when I found you crushed in the blackness? D'you recall the words you swore to?" The devils voice lost its velvet edges, he intoned, "To crew my ship four one-hundred years, for the prolonging of your years and the postponement of judgment day." He leaned closer to William Turner, his voice now stone against crushed glass, a growing fire in his eyes searing the mind of the seer, burning holes in his soul. "You haven't held up your part of the bargain-uh. You've betrayed my trust. My duty to keep you alive is no more."

No one saw him draw it, or where it had come from. In fact, until Bill stumbled aback, hands clutching the hilt, real mortal blood oozing from between his fingers, no one saw the knife at all.

When you lived as long as Davy Jones you learn the ins and outs of death and the means of torture. He had taught himself that trick in India. A medicine man had told him of it. One solid upward thrust, catching the victim between the ribs, could keep him alive and conscious for hours while the blood seeped slowly form the wound.

"Know this Bill Turner, before the sun sets today I will have killed your friend and son and everyone they care about. Know that you will never see them again, and that their ends will be as slow and painful as yours." Jones waved for Coral-face to take him away, "Back to the brig, let him die with those happy thoughts."

So many ways of killing Jack Sparrow filled his head that he didn't know which to choose. One thing only was clear; he had to speak to Sparrow before he died. He had to know what Jack loved…so he could take it away from him.

* * *

His heart couldn't help but beat gradually faster. Will had never been more invigorated or more frightened for his life. The silence of the sea and the crew had ended abruptly when the enemy came into sight. The water became choppy and turbulent and the rain beat down more heavily making the decks slick with moisture, and the sea give up a thickening spray.

Anamaria was good enough to loan Will her spyglass, through which he could almost make out the faces of the crew milling about aboard the Endeavor. The Heart was somewhere on that ship, in the possession of Lord Cutler Beckett.

"Battle Stations!" Will ordered, assuming that the crew would know what to do. Anamaria repeated the order, and the women and men alike scrambled to obey.

"You have a plan I hope?" Norrington was at his shoulder, looking at him suspiciously and then back to the Endeavor. All the ships of the EITC fleet were spread along and endless line moving towards them, the wind now with them. The Pirates had much fewer ships, but their forces were split into the agreed upon three arrow shaped formations.

"I hate to disappoint, but our plan is what it has always been. Board and search till we find the Heart of Davy Jones."

"I'm glad to hear you are so confident."

Will didn't mind admitting. "I'm not."

James laughed at him bitterly. "That is was sarcasm Mister Turner. Good luck." He wished him begrudgingly. Several years of bad blood between them hadn't been lessened by several days of partnership. Though Norrington wouldn't want to admit it, he had never really forgiven Will for being Elizabeth's choice over him, and Will knew it.

"Same to you Commodore."

Will descended into the ship, observing the cannons at their ports. Each face turned up to him for orders in a way that gave him a jolt of pride. "Prepare to fire but wait for my signal."

A chorus of voices answered, "Aye!"

If they could clear the decks for a boarding party the search could commence without impediment. That was more than Will hoped for, but anything would help. The Captain of the Sapphire emerged and looked around. The Endeavor was so close that Will imagined he could have smelled Beckett's wig powder.

The waves were beginning to beat against the Sapphire's Pride violently, rocking her alarmingly for side to side. The storm was getting worse for them; rain was so heavy it actually hurt bare skin. Out of nowhere lightning began to snake it's way out of the sky, striking the mast of a ship behind them, followed by a crack of thunder that made their ears ring. But that wasn't half of the storms strangeness, because if you had a good set of eyes and looked across the way to where the East India fleet moved gradually closer you could see that the waves suddenly smoothed beneath those ships, and the rain wasn't even falling on the decks.

No prizes for guessing whose handy work this unnatural storm was.

"Ready grapples! Prepare to board her on my command. Wait for the first round of fire!" Will felt his pulse pounding in his ears. What was this? With every order, and every moment, as the danger moved closer and his possible end seemed nearly palpable. Still he had never felt more alive as he did now, adrenaline making every sensation that much more acute. Was this the sort of freedom that men craved? Wasn't this feeling worth whatever danger or relative evil perpetrated? Or was his pirate blood catching up with him finally?

He could win against the world with the smallest effort. Without his knowledge his sword had jumped into his hand, and an irrepressible smile played about his lips. Had he lived before now?

Even as they drew along side the Endeavor and the yells the enemy reached his ears. Though salty water ran into his eyes, and the driving rain blurred his vision of the other ship, and the wind roared in his ears. And even as Will drew breath to shout, "Fire!" into the shrieking storm, something shook the whole ship out of the surreal moment out of an epic poem. The Sapphire shuddered and stopped, held in place like grabbed form beneath by a great hand, the board creaked and trembled from the jolt, like they had hit a reef.

"No!" Will gasped in shock. "This isn't happening again!"

Anamaria didn't understand what was happening, she could only guess that Will could tell her. "Orders?!" She yelled, but he couldn't hear her over the sound of the waves crashing around them.

"Not again." He gasped again, trying to remember what he was supposed to do. What had happened to the amazing resolve he had felt only a moment before.

The first tentacles became visible over the sides of the ship, slithering their way almost casually, preparing to pull the ship under. Anamaria blanched, understandably, facing a sea monster form only a few feet way, her hand still full with the grappling as she prepared with her boarding party. "CAPTAIN TURNER!"

"Everyone get away from the rails!" Will managed to yell at last. "GET AWAY FROM THE RAILING!" To his horror the crew stood stock still, frozen as if under a gorgons gaze.

In a terrible second, faster than the lightning that flashed all around them; one tentacle snapped out and pulled three sailors into the thrashing waves. In a frenzy of movement, the Kraken's deadly limbs streaked across the deck, with dizzying swiftness. Mast cracked and the sound of them was lost in the screams or the doomed being pulling into the ocean with sickening finality. Beneath the screaming, the roar of the wind and waves, the thunder and the splintering of wood, cannon began to boom steadily. The Endeavor, virtually untouched by all the chaos, was firing on them.

In the midst of the confusion William darted forward to grab Anamaria, who, lost in the shock, still stood by the rails. He caught hold of her around the waist, trying to pull her away. She stumbled and fell landing on top of Will, who scrambled to pull them to their feet and get to a safe place. There were no safe places.

He managed to push her away, to where she crumpled to the deck beneath the amazingly whole mainmast.

The Sapphire's pride began to rock wildly in the wake of the Kraken, attempting the shake the ship to pieces. William stumbled and slide down deck, now sloping this way, now that. In his ears amazingly he heard a voice, clear as a whisper in an empty room. A voice telling him, warning him, "William, gid away from da railing! Look behind you!"

Before he could obey the voice, Tia's, he was seized around the waist in a strangling grip. In the power of the Kraken, being dragged irresistibly to the edge, everything slowed down to the point of stopping. Will had plenty of time to consider this gruesome method of his imminent death.

* * *

Because she had floated in the horrible darkness for so long the light that suddenly surrounded her was painful. Everything was ethereal white, spreading off into nowhere. She squinted, and shivered with cold, and gripped onto the edge of consciousness.

Instead she gripped the edge of a rough wooden table. She was so cold.

Looking down at herself at last, she was more surprised to see herself there than she should have been. More surprised, though, because of what she was wearing. Her wedding dress, except infinitely more beautiful than she remembered it. The white lace was brighter, the golden threads glittered with a light of her own. Why was she shivering?

"Well?" she jumped and looked up, into the face of someone she had never seen before. His rough rasp, pained as if he found it heard to draw in the air, was in keeping with his appearance. His hair dripped and his skin was sickly blue, even more disturbingly his skin seemed to covered in creeping barnacles. So shocking was his sudden existence in her world of brilliant white, she quite forgot what it was one did when spoken to.

"Will you roll them or not?" She jumped again at the sound of his voice, which sounded so loud and coarse in the utter silence of the white. Feeling suddenly like a naughty school girl, being reprimanded by an old crotchety tutor, she looked down quickly.

Where her fingers had been wrapped around the edge of the table, she found her hands cradling some very ordinary looking dice. Two of them, slightly brown with age showing snake eyes, looking up at her expectantly.

"It goes on whether you roll or not." Whoever it was that sat across from Elizabeth at the table looked at her sadly. Sympathy?

"What does?" Was that her voice? Did she really sound like that? Time had made her so...desperate?

He raised and eyebrow as if she should know. "Fate." The word echoed around nothing in reverberate sighs.

She tried as hard as she could, but as it is sometimes in dreams, and usually in life, she lost control. Without her wanting them to, the dice seemed to actively wriggle from between her fingers, tumbling to the table and turning over and over.

To add to the surreal moment's eeriness the faces of the dice began to change. One remained a five, but the other looked back at her with an empty expression. It was Jack.

Her fingertips were growing numb, her lips as well, her body was trembling with unbearable cold. "A bad luck roll, that." The man nodded at the table. "I'm sorry for him."

Her hands were unsteady as Elizabeth reached for the die, but her partner snatched his hand out and took it before she could.

"No!" She cried with shuddering force. "Give it back! I want him!"

Acting as if he hadn't heard her he ask, "Where is my son?"

"What?"

"Where is William?" Elizabeth felt the horrified expression spread over her face, her bluish lips parted in astonishment.

"Who are you?"

There were random sounds starting somewhere behind her. Vague deep booming pounded in her head. The white nothing was darkening.

"You must get up." The man ordered her firmly. Could he be Will's father? She had never seen him before.

An invisible pressure was crushing her ribcage, a corset pulling tighter and tighter till it was impossible to breathe. She felt soaked form the inside out, like she was standing in a room slowly filling with ice water.

"Who…" She rasped, barely forcing the words to take shape, "Who…are…you?"

"Get up Elizabeth Swann. If you don't escape right now you'll kill them both."

Something shook her violently, the vivid white changed back to the swirling black. She screamed. She was falling backwards into the cold, black, endless torment. She would never escape, everyone she loved was either dead or dying and Jack wouldn't save her…why wouldn't he save?

Sinking deeper into the pool of salt tears and sea water she started to drown.

* * *

More startling than the sudden appearance from behind the thickening walls of falling water of an unnatural ghost ship was the fog swirling around the deck of the Pearl. The mist seemed semisolid, like a weight around the small crew's boots, and it gurgled and undulated like a living thing writhing in agony of death throws. Compared to that, the Flying Dutchman, illuminated occasionally by strikes of lightening in the thunder shaken sky, was relatively comforting because at least the Jack had told them it would be there.

Jack was having trouble remembering to breath. The weight on his shoulders that had been slowly growing incrementally as they neared the eye of his torment. He could hardly stand under the pressure of so much hatred concentrated in one place. Trapped inside the Locker he had had a private viewing into the mind of Davy Jones. His prison with no walls, only doors in to the corridors of his tormented memories, his tear chamber had been only a cell in a much darker purgatory. The Locker was nothing more or less than the twisted prison of Davy's imagination. A torture chamber full of the bitterness of a heartless inhuman force.

Jack had seen it, like no one else had done, and he lived, in a way, to tell the tale. But he had left something behind, and the closer the drifted through the driving rain, the more he realized just how strong Jones's hold was.

Gibbs was tiptoeing around the deck comically, crossing himself as he stood back to his captain and said, "Frightful devilry this, Jack. It bodes ill by all accounts."

Jack actually smiled, "He's stronger." Maybe it was the proximity to the Heart that made the difference in the Dutchman's powers, or maybe it was just the fact that Jones relished the chance to finish off Jack Sparrow ever so slowly. Jack didn't share either sentiment with Gibbs, who would surely be thrown into further hysterics. He instead concentrated on the shoot of light surrounding the Devil's Ship and the clouds spinning around it. And at the very heart of the eye of storm stood Davy Jones.

"Go down and wait form the signal…"

Gibbs nodded and made his captain once again silently overwhelmed by his loyalty. "And pray it never comes." He finished the order.

It still didn't make much sense to Jones that he could be staring at a boldfaced and smirking Jack Sparrow. It seemed, in fact, rather contrary to the way things were supposed to be.

Davy Jones, Captain of the Flying Dutchman and claimer of souls, was used to his effect on people. In truth he had cultivated it and honed it into a fine art form, much like the way his legend had grown through the years, his ability to live up to it, to scare the living daylights out of anyone that crossed his path, had as well. He was not unjustly proud of the fact. So Sparrow's calmness and blatant disregard for the natural order kept him off balance as the negotiations began.

"You have come to meet your own damnation, Jack Sparrow. I can assume only you want something."

"Your perception, as always amazes me. You have always been so insightful."

If Jones had had an eyebrow, he would have raised it. "Excuse me…are you trying to be…scathing?"

"Am I not?" Jack did raise his eyebrows, both of them, in an off-handed sort of way.

"This seems an inappropriate time."

"I understand. Straight to business, no small talk." Jack made a great show on nonchalance. In his mind a clock was ticking away furiously. Every second longer he waited someone was very likely dead not two leagues away. "I come to deliver a challenge.

Jones found this funny and laughed aloud.

"I challenge you…" Jack paused dramatically, "To single combat."

Jones shifted his weight form his peg leg to his real one like the ground had shifted in an unexpected direction. "Really?" He asked, intrigued as well as confused by the many possibilities this new proposition could create.

"Listen, I'll make it fair. I'll fight you with one half of my soul tied behind me back." An edge entered Jack's voice, and accusing one.

Jones let the words hang in the air for a long time and thought. "Why would you want to fight someone you can't kill?"

"Call it a grudge. Call it vengeance. Call it well earned insanity or the result of carrying ones unfinished business to the grave and back. If I have a death wish, and you can rightly accuse me of that, then I can only surmise that you do also. We share a singular desire."

Davy Jones stared, unrestrainedly at the creature he had created. This was no one he knew and hated. This Sparrow was another altogether.

"There is a condition." Jack interrupted his thought. "The storm must be suspended for the fight." To Jones this seemed almost a side issue. He had to think…what was the down side to this? What could Jack Sparrow hope to gain?

"Though it seems a moot point, I must ask…" He laughed at the absurdity of what was happening. What must the spectators think? "as a matter of formality, what are the stakes to our hypothetical contest."

"If you win you can have the rest of my soul."

"And…?"

"If I win, I want my life back. I want the sea back. I want the horizon and the waves and the sunset and the sea spray…"

"High stakes, mate." Jones made a wet sound with his lips. "What if I refuse?'

Jack smiled, his eyes glowed with a hateful internal life, and he was truly terrifying to behold. "Then I will give the signal to my ship mate and he will light the fuse of my powder heavy ship and we can finish this conversation in hell when I see you again."

Jones was shocked at Jack's candor. The words reached him across the space between the two ships, there wasn't much, precise like they had been practiced in the mirror. This bluff was carried out perfectly, but Jones had a suspicion that this was no bluff.

Jack would kill himself, kill his crew, kill the crew of the Flying Dutchman including his own friend Bootstrap…just for revenge? Was this ruthlessness or sacrifice? He wanted to change something and tip the balance in his favor…and he wanted the storm suspended…

"Ha!" The Devil laughed aloud, throwing a glance in the direction of the fleets colliding. He suddenly understood the delicious hopelessness. "Aren't you a clever actor?" So the Locker really had done what it was meant to do…it had cut Jack deeper that Jones had ever hoped for.

The Devil reached out with his mind and sensed the internal anguish of the soul, half his already, the one that he had ruined. "Is not love the cruelest thing of all?" He asked, watching Jacks fragile little mask of indifference crack.

"I agree." He said with pleasure, this was a better revenge than he could have devised on his own. Jack would destroy himself, those he loved and in the end do nothing to save his friends…yes indeed a job well done. "I agree to your terms."

* * *

Elizabeth shot forward spluttering and coughing. For a while she was blind, shivering, and terrified. All she could do was try to cough the water out of her lungs and listen to a deep booming somewhere far away. As she waited for her eyes to adjust she could only grasp at wild horrific guesses as to where she might be. Sitting still as stone in a creeping cold pool of water again and again he mind, fevered and driven by a provoked and guilty conscience told her that she was in the tear chamber, a punishment for the blood on her hands.

However, the forms around her began to take on definite shape and in the dim she realized she wasn't in Hades, she was even alive if her pulse could be trusted.

It was the unfamiliar belly of a ship that surrounded her. Unfamiliar in that she had never seen it before and also because it was filling with water at an alarming rate. Despite the panic that was welling up in her chest, she couldn't move. She was still trying to remember how she got here. Remembering as far back as she could…she could remember nothing but black. Endless black…and black sails…and the empty pools of black eyes…

"Oh, God." She remembered where she was supposed to be! Her hand shot to her head and she winced, pulling he fingers away all sticky with half coagulated blood. "Damn it!" Out of nowhere her head throbbed with pain of such intensity that is was accompanied with a fit of nausea. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise and take on the world, she wasn't in good shape. Though she could feel the water, cold and deadly, rising around her Elizabeth was unable to move for sometime, it was all she could do not to throw up and pass out again.

Someone had lain her carefully on a hammock, which had presumable not been half submerged at the time, with her jacked rolled up for a pillow beneath her head. She didn't bother to retrieve the garment, which was now fully soaked. All she could hear was the sound of running water and the thrumming of… thunder?

Experimentally, and always with the knowledge that the room she was in was filling rapidly with the intent to drown her, Elizabeth stood in the waist high water and tried to wade to a wall. The fire in her head was stealing down her back and through her joints until the one injury made even her fingers throb.

She ignored it, and tried to still her convulsive shivers. Everything hurt, but now she could feel the rough walls and concentrate on those. In her world there was nothing but the rough wood beneath her fingers and the water she could barely see. Blindly she stumbled along, inching her way along the wall she used also to keep herself upright. She couldn't tell whether she was shaking or the ship was around her, and still the water filled the room. Up to her elbows. Where was that door! The icy fingers closed around her throat, she panicked, gasped for air. Where was that door!

She sobbed with relief when she found it at last, the doorway and the stairs that would lead her on deck. She floated above the lentil, the exit was completely submerged now and the toes of her boots could no longer find the floor. Her heart beat so loudly it threatened to pound out the sound of the water, and she was afraid of dying. What could she do?

If she tried to swim she might black out again and drown, she didn't even know if her legs were sure enough to move her through the water. And what, again she had to wonder, was the booming, threatening sound? She might escape just to die another way. But there was no other choice, so she took what might be her last breath and kicked as hard as she could toward the surface.

* * *

Anamaria grabbed his right hand not a second before the creature would have pull will into the torrent of water and splintered wood. In her left hand she held tightly to a lifeline, keeping them tenuously anchored to the deck.

"Will!" She shouted at him, but he looked dazed like he no longer knew what was happening. "Will!" She yelled again, trying to wake him up.

William could hardly breathe in the Krakens grip. His daze was broken suddenly when his heels connected with the railing and he looked up at Ana. She was straining to keep them on the ship with inhuman effort, stalling them just long enough to…what? He left arm trapped at his side wriggled wildly to reach his belt, his fingers groping for the handle of his knife.

Anamaria blinked her watering eyes, the rope was pulled tight, her shoulder possibly dislocated already from the stress. Her palms were rope burned, and bleeding and her as much as she tried to hold on her fingers were slipping one by one.

Just as Will was sure his arm would be ripped from its socket his fingers closed around the handle of the blade, and he stabbed wildly upward over and over again.

The giant tentacle tensed, and the tightened around Will's torso in a grip surely meant to snap his spin in half. William was dizzy, he lost his hold on Anamaria's fingers and everything was just white searing pain forever. But then the Kraken loosed its grip, and dropped Will on the deck with a shriek.

They both momentarily stunned, but only for a moment, before Anamaria and Captain Turner jumped to their feet and began to run aft. The ship was tilting alarmingly. If they had looked behind them the could have seen the tentacles winding themselves around the railing and snaking along the deck to find a place to hold. Showing its impatience to eat the sea monster was trying to capsize the ship.

They ran along the graduating incline, adrenaline, exhilaration, and a near-death-experience making them light headed. In that moment timed slowed, so that Will could see every instant of what happened next clearly in his dreams.

Anamaria, running beside him turned her head and met his eye, and she smiled. As strange as it might seem, in the midst of chaos, she smiled at him. He felt his blood go a little warm. She was so pretty at that very instant, and in the melee of lightning, gunpowder and shot, she seemed happy in that eternal trice. She lived for this. She was untouchable.

So what happened next was all the more unspeakable.

An instantaneous silence opened, and in the interim Will heard a gun shot, clear as ringing crystal. Unremarkable yes, but in that same silence Anamaria cried out and fell. Will reach out and grabbed one hand but their momentum was broken and they started sliding down the decks slippery surface. Anamaria clutched her thigh with her free hand, tying to stem the bleeding. Will tried to back peddle, but slipped and lost hold of her.

She couldn't stand or get to her feet so Ana rolled onto her stomach and scrambled upward. One glance had told her that the railing of the Sapphire to starboard was fully under water and she was only a few feet away from where the deck was receding into the water.

Will got his footing again, and dropped to his belly to grab hold of her hand. She looked back up at him, looked at if she might smile again…

Anamaira opened her mouth to say something, possibly "Pull me up." Or some kind of thanks. But her face froze, and then contorted with horror. A slender tentacle wound its way around her ankle and yanked her backwards.

Will, holding her fingers, was pulled down after her. With a shout of shock he realized what was happening. He tried to pull her back up, save her as she had saved him. The water swallowed her legs…torso…shoulders…

She looked at him with eyes that tried to communicate a message. He couldn't know what it was. Those eyes, her face, disappeared beneath the water soundlessly. Will still held her fingers, concentrated on her strong but slender hand, willed himself the strength to save her.

He yelled something into the sea, he lost his grasp and she slipped through his fingers and was gone.


	11. Chapter 15

"I had the strangest dream Mercer. Do you know what it was?" Cutler Beckett, though a coward by nature, was always unnaturally calm when the moment of intensity arrived with which his thoughts and fears had been wrestling. Though the vessel shuttered form its great many cannons all firing in unison, Cutler was unnervingly quiet, and sloshed a last swallow of best brandy around in the bottom of a delicate crystal cup.

"I can't say My Lord."

"That's good Mercer, for it is impertinent to presume to know someone else's dreams." Mercer wouldn't have known how he would have responded to this, thankfully Beckett continued before an awkward pause could lengthen itself. "I dreamed that all of this was over with, and I was back in my spacious new manor house in Port Royal drinking champagne and entertaining guests at weekly dinner parties. I was wearing a brand new coat and my shoes where freshly polished and I was tattling to Mrs. Bringers about the whether and the remodeling I had had recently done."

Cutler paused and gave Mercer an affected smile that was entirely eelish in aspect. "My desk was stacked high with letters form the East India Company telling me how they were bending backwards to help me with my latest schemes…and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that the Turners, the Swanns, the Sparrows and Norringtons of this world along with their ships their ports their belongs and memories were all safely submerged in the deepest part of the sea." Cutler sighed lightly as if savoring his dream.

"I paint a pretty picture don't I Mercer?" What could the clerk do but agree? "Do you have any idea what was wrong with my dream Mercer?"

"No, sir. I do not."

"Nothing, nothing at all."

Cutler crossed the floor of the great room dangerously and looked out the window. The sun was shining. The wind was blowing lightly and overall the world looked right and at ease again. Through that window Cutler could just see the Sapphire's Pride sinking lazily almost casually and there were a total of zero sea monsters to be seen. The only thing that disturbed the absolute tranquility of the scene, a thousand ships drifting in a strangely dazed fashion, was the constant thrumming of the cannonade.

"Something has gone terribly awry. Mercer, get your pistol and find the Governor and kill him quietly before anything else goes wrong."

* * *

It was like that entire section of storm was cut away with a razor blade and lifted away like a trapdoor into blue. Where Jack stood it still rained heavily and blurred his vision through coral and seaweed spyglass, but in the distance he could make out the shape of the Kraken disentangling itself from the shape of the sinking ship.

"Are you satisfied with your product, Captain Sparrow?" Jack looked as thoughtful as he could and pushed the slimy telescope into Davy's claw.

"Yes." He said at last. "Indeed, you've held up your end of the bargain with your usual vigor and inscrutable pomp…" Davy disguised he confused look with a scowl. "Though I must say mate, you're lucky I'm such an understanding consumer. Such shoddy workmanship would not me stood for in the trade of a tailor for instance." Jack grinned innocently.

Jones cleared his throat and nodded imperceptibly to his crew. There was a pause, one without any length to it at all, and they vanished.

Jack looked bewildered this time. He turned around, and looked at his own ship and stared at it fixedly through the conjured fog for a while before he really understood what had happened.

"My crew will stay onboard your ship and guard your crew, yer friends will be dispatched should you attempt anything…incongruous with our understanding. Agreed?"

Since Jack had not choice in the matter he didn't feel compelled to answer instead he said lightly with a hint of companionable resignation in his voice, "Hostages then? You bastard."

Davy inclined his head to Jack as if to a compliment. "Shall we begin?" Davy drew his sword with his strange and betentacled hand.

"You sure you're ready Squidy? Feel free to take your time. We could postpone this if you like." Jack drew his own cutlass and it gleamed wetly from an unknown source of light.

Davy Jones didn't answer, he only smiled savagely and lunged with his sword.

* * *

**(Chapter Seventeen)**

**The Back Door into Revenge**

Jack parried carelessly, grinning savagely, laughing even. He was so transformed from what Jack Sparrow was meant to be that it was hard to look at him and not shudder a little at the change.

Davy Jones didn't shudder. Instead he attacked again, merciless glee painting his features. His enjoyment of the present situation was impossible to hide. What a job he had done? Who could doubt that he was a master of pain, cruelty, or reading a man's heart. He was the architect of the mental prison. The craftsman, the key, and the hinge on which the back door into revenge swung. Jack Sparrow was without a doubt his magnum opus.

"It brings back memories does it not Jack." Jones swung his sword over Jacks head, an only half-hearted attack. He did not think he could ever forget the way Jack had looked when he first saw him. Eyes hollowed out with the remnants of grief and narrowed with felt betrayal. He was such a complete paradox. A pirate out of what one might call compassion. A restless shadow of ill will. A specter of inevitable retribution. A man haunted forever by loss. That look, that beleaguered and foot heavy image of Jack was conjured into memory now only because of the starkness of the change.

The fight was heartfelt, in that it was clear that each had violent intentions for the other, but Jacks tone was conversational, his stance almost casual. "If you're speaking about me trapping you on land…Yes indeed. I noticed the same fear in your eyes then."

It was of course one of Jack's favorite and least told stories about himself, and truly he was as great as his legend if the truth was told about his exploits. When he had been a bit younger, slightly obtuse in his reasoning, and equally desperate, he had once tracked down Davy Jones. Mostly by accident and entirely through coincidence, truth be told (though it isn't), Jack found him on his island hideaway. It was the place Jones came that one time every ten years to remember his lost love.

In a moment of raving insanity Jack pinned Jones in that cave and kept him from leaving. Neither of them knew what might happen to Davy if he didn't return to his ship before midnight on his one day of freedom, but Jones wasn't willing to test it and time was running out.

"You found me, against odds and the decrees of fate, to ask one thing of me. I don't suppose you remember your words do you?" Jones smiled horribly.

"How could I forget? In a round about way it's the way I got here isn't it?"

"'I offer a trade.' You said to me. 'Give me the weapon I need to keep a promise. Give me the power to carry out my revenge.'"

Jack took up the recitation. "'Give me the one thing I ask for…thirteen years to captain a ship for my soul. Ten years for eternity." And in unison they said, "Raise the Black Pearl for me."

Their swords had fallen to their sides. Whether Jones was pondering whether or not he had made the right choice all those years ago, or if he was just lost in the moment was unclear. It could be seen in Jack's eyes that the gears where turning. First he had struggled to fight against the memories. In his current state, devoid to the ability to be comforted or to take pleasure in all the brightness in his life he was drowned in all the tragic things he had hidden so perfectly for years, he didn't know if he could take it. Now he succumbed to the past at last. Each little element of that day, that year, that entire portion of his life was in the forefront of his mind. He forgot the fight in the present. Jones was just a superimposed image of his past, and the rain was that of thirteen years ago, and the lightening was the lightening that illuminated his naïve face and eyes staring at The Devil, ready to make a deal.

"I always wondered what you were thinking on that day." The captain of the Flying Dutchman dropped into a reminiscent drawl.

"If you're asking whether or not I knew the consequence would be… so complete… the answer is no." Jack didn't give away that that was only half true. At the time he had had a good idea how he might turn out. He had never counted on Elizabeth though.

"No, I meant, why were you so willing to give up your soul for thirteen years and a ship?" Jones was smiling slightly, a look of sincere interest on his face.

"Why? That's simple. I had a purpose…revenge…a promise to keep. Thirteen years was all I needed to finish it. After that I didn't see what I needed a soul for." Jack answered with a voice colder than the driving rain.

"Yet you fought to keep your life in the end." It wasn't a question but Jack gave him his explanation.

"I had found that there were things to love about life. I found I wanted to live free, at sea, surrounded by things I thought precious. I decided I needed my soul to feel that which I didn't think I could feel again."

"And I took that from you? That love of the sea, that purpose you craved so?" Davy's eyes were gleaming now.

"And left me the only desire I would have asked you to take away. My curse is complete." Jack raised his almost as if it was a matter of pride.

"I can sleep well knowing that." Davy said in a husky whisper. He crossed the space between them before Jack could raise his sword and plunged rain soaked blade into his victim.

* * *

There was light everywhere. Elizabeth's eyes burned with salt water and tried to adjust.

She realized how much of the noise had been muffled in the flooded belly of the ship. She pushed the hair from her eyes and looked up into the sky. It was blue…perfect blue and closer than she had ever seen before. She had the notion to reach up and touch it with her fingertips, to grab hold of it and float way on the lightest of breezes.

Would splintered and smoke swirled around her head. The momentary fantasy was gone, her adrenaline spiked.

Elizabeth looked around for any familiar faces. She swayed and wheeled her arms to try to keep her balance. The ship was still shuddering and sinking. There was water on the deck around her feet. The ringing in her ears may have been from the noise or from shock. Disoriented and dizzy she managed to stumble to a mast, which she clung to helplessly, squeezing her eyes shut as if she could make it all go away.

* * *

Will didn't recover. He didn't pull himself together and come out swinging, saving the day with his usual zeal, or play the hero's roll the he so comfortably filled. He lay there for endless dangerous moments, and somehow a hand of fate kept him safe in his stillness despite the shrapnel falling all around. When the sky suddenly lightened he thought that maybe he had died as well. He was following Anamaria…

Punishment? Because he couldn't repay his debt?

The there was the yelling in his ear and for a long time everything was a blur of motion and sound. Someone was asking him questions, pulling him to his feet. What he answering? He couldn't tell afterward. He didn't care. He walked around not unlike a sleepwalker through a dream land. Passing sights that shouldn't exist, hear sounds that could only be found in nightmares.

He finally realized that it was Bethanna talking to him. Anamaria's first mate…his first mate he supposed. She had shaken him rather roughly. "Orders!" She was yelling loudly over and over again. "Orders Captain! Captain Turner the ship is sinking!"

"Will?" There was another voice behind him. Familiar but distant. Will still couldn't believe this was happening. Again? Hadn't this happened before? The Asian pirate Choy had jumped between him and a trained swordsman. Was his life anything more than one terrible event after another…and had they all led to this point? What was the point of killing so many people around him if fate was just going to kill him now?

It was happening again…thought infinitely worse. There was nothing left to fight for…

What was the point? Why should he even continue on?

"Will!" James Norrington was yelling at him. A concerned look on his face that neither of them could have predicted. "William Turner, snap out of it!" James slapped Will smartly across the face, well making up for any concern there may have been in the look a moment ago.

Will looked out of his dream like state. As if seeing the world and his…friend?…rival?...For the first time.

"What?" He asked, hearing his voice from leagues away.

To Bethanna he said, in a voice that would have seemed almost tender had it not been so loud. "Run along, and ready what's left of the boarding party. I will circle back and look for the injured and survivors. Captain Turner will lead the boarders."

"But the Captain is—" Signs of grief showed in Bethanna's voice. She had lost her friend and captain.

"GO!" Norrington knew it. While Will had fought to save her below, a few shock crewmates had huddled together and watched the whole thing in opened mouthed. James had seen what happened, but the tenderness was gone.

James turned back and yanked the sword from Will's belt and pressed it firmly into his hand. "Will!" He was awake at last but still shaky and half numb. "Take the sword William. Lead you men."

"There's no point. We're all going to die."

"We have a fighting chance. The formation is working. Look, you can see up making progress! The Kraken has fled!" Norrington grabbed fists full of Will shirt and rattled him again in a way he had wanted to for a long time running.

"What's the point?"

"You don't need a point! The point isn't the point! Grab the sword and lead your crew. They need a leader not a point. Don't waste their lives."

"Don't waste their lives." He said, but Will heard "Don't waste her life." Her life, exchanged for his life. He grabbed the sword.

* * *

It took a long time for Elizabeth to orient herself again. The noise and the tremors of the ship kept her dizzy with the throbbing in her head. In the frenzy of motion all around her she was all but invisible to the crew mate, mostly women she noted, that passed by trying to do what they could for the sinking vessel. She recognized no one…she had a hard time placing the familiarity of the ship.

There was really only one person she wanted to see. All she need was one tiny ray of hope…just one hint that he hadn't run away…or worse gone all noble one her at the worst possible time.

Through the smog filled air she scanned the horizon the best she could, taking not of the storm that encircled them on all sides but didn't encroach on the fleet of fighting ships.

At the extreme edge of the horizon, far enough away that she shouldn't have seen it but she did, there was a blotch, two blotches, against the black border of the sky occasionally lit by the fiery flitting of lightening…a smudge of black sails.

Without really thinking about what she was doing she ran across the slightly inclined surface of the deck, splashing through the puddles. "Jack!"

She squinted into the distance, seeing what she had been hoping against subconsciously ever since she remember what Jack had done to her. As far as she could tell there weren't in flashes from the cannons, but it was impossible to tell with all the lightening. She had wanted to believe that he might have been running away. Maybe he was just going to disappear and she would never hear from him again, that would be like Jack. At least then she could be angry with him. Now what could she do? "You idiot! This was not time for you to turn to a hero!"

The truth she hadn't wanted to think about was as clear as crystal now. If he had let her come with him at least it would have all been over then, they would have both gone together. No. That wasn't Jack. He had to be conniving, always scheming and he always had to win. He had tried to protect her again.

She fell to her knees very hard, dissolving into frantic sobs. "You didn't have to do it." She cried. "You could have tried! You could have tried at least…to come back to me…"

Falling in love wasn't worth pain like this. If it would just kill her that would solve it, if she could make herself stop wishing that would be better. But her heart stubborn continued to beat. "You can't make me." She told him quietly. "You can't force me to live without you." The tears ran very hot down her cheeks and blurred her vision.

She wouldn't let him save her. She would just go down with the ship.

"Elizabeth!" Someone knelt down next to her. His voice was ever even with it's passive noncommittal tone, colored now with mixed surprise and worry. "What are you doing here? I thought you went with Jack." She shook violently at the name.

James Norrington must have noticed the blood in her hair. His carefully controlled calm cracked. "Are you hurt!" He lifted her chin to look into her face. She still made his heart jump embarrassingly.

She wanted so badly to be told it was alright. She buried her face in his shoulder. "He had not right to try to save me." She wept. And James's arms enfolded her, entirely surprised by what he didn't seem to be understanding.

"We have to get out of here. The ship is sinking around us." Elizabeth struggled faintly.

"Jack he…" She gestured weekly.

"We can find him later." She couldn't fight anymore. Somehow he managed to plant a seed of hope in her hopelessness. Maybe she could still save Jack.

The former commodore who still loved her put her around his shoulders and helped her across the ship. "Thank you." She whispered so quietly he only guessed he heard it, thought she wasn't sure what she was thankful for.

After a minute more Elizabeth got her feet back under her. They were boarding the enemy ship. She seemed to revitalize then and the vague idea of try to save Jack became a forming plan. Their mission reasserted itself in her mind.

If James was here then this must be Will's ship. It only made sense that Jack would have sent her here. And that must be the Endeavor. Their mission! Will was trying to kill Davy Jones and save his father. If that would save Will's dad, than maybe she could help and save Jack too.

"Thank you." She said again. Knowing what she meant now, and kissed Norrington quickly on the cheek.

They grabbed the grappling rope and then the real problems started.

* * *

Jack coughed and stumbled away. Davy Jones stared on with savage delight, the tip of his cutlass was deeply embedded in Jack's shoulder.

Jack looked at the sword and grabbed hold of it by the blade just about where it disappeared in the folds of his jacket. "Ah." He gritted his teeth and pulled those several inches of cold steel out of his right shoulder, spitting out the coppery taste in his mouth.

"You can take me apart piece by piece…I'm not going to make it that easy." The threw the sword at Jones's feet.

The Devil recovered his weapon with a sneer. "If that's the way it has to be." He swung for Jack's head, Jack ducked it and switch his sword to his other hand. "I am happy to oblige."

Parry, lung, thrust…the metal clanged together in feats of clever sword play. Jack compensating for his weaker sword arm with jumping behind the helm or rolling loose barrels in Davy's direction.

"Stop dancing around like a crab. From what I remember of you, you were never so tricky when trying to get something from me. What do you want from me now then?"

"Just what I told you." Jack to cover behind the mainmast, creeping one way and then the other as Jones tried to pursue him.

"You want your soul back, eh. I don't think I believe you."

Jack winced. The pain in his shoulder was really unbearable, and the blood loss was making him light headed. "Why not…what else could I possible want form you?"

"What indeed?" Jones seemed to give up on trying to lure Jack form behind the mast, instead he took and eager interest in their conversation. The sound of his peg leg fell quiet. "Do you still speak to you witch friend from time to time?"

Jack winced at the question. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"She knows all the stories doesn't she? She told you why I locked my heart away in a chest, she probably told you all the stories about me long ago. Come to think of it she is likely the one who told you how to trap my on land and ask for your boon."

"Are you going to make a point? Or does this monologue of yours just go on and on and on…like this storm of yours for instance."

Jack thought he felt his enemies glare on him burning through the mast. "There's a point Jack Sparrow. The point is that I don't think this is about your soul. I don't think this is about anything so selfish…because you see I know that you don't even have that capacity anymore. I took it from you. And all the things you've done thus far could not have been motivated by a longing to love life again, because you don't have that either. I know you Jack. I've seen your soul. Your whole soul. I know exactly what you have left. You didn't do this for yourself, or your friends on your ship, or the pirates who all united to follow you. You didn't do this for any of them. You couldn't."

The sensation of die came back to him strongly, like the world had dropped out form underneath him and he was falling into blackness again.

"You're here for the woman you fell in love with against everything you had ever promised yourself. That woman, for it is always a woman Jack, that can never belong to you apart for the infinite pain you will end up causing her. And you know in your mind that worse than that you came here to let me kill you so she could live is the fact you have been running form since before I ever touched you. You have become in every way what I am, Jack."

* * *

As soon as Will entered the fray aboard the Endeavor the familiar feeling of his blood igniting in his veins started his pulse pounding loudly enough to drown out every other sound.

In his minds eye everything slowed to immobility, and he stepped through the melee like a wraith, neither seeing nor being seen. Without a great deal of planning he was heading for the captain's cabin…if the Heart was here, it would be there.

Tia Dalma managed invisibility like any other cheap parlor trick. People only saw what they expected and so slipping off the Sapphire and onto the Endeavor without being spotted by the guards was simple enough.

More difficult was deciding where to go next. Inside her head was the steady ticking of her time running down, but running headlong into fate was frightening even to her.

There was the frenzied motion of battle around her. Vaguely she listened to the shouts and death sounds. Her eyes were closed...what she must do next flashed through her head, the rippling images on the surface of a darkening pool. The ringing of a crystal bell sounded in her thoughts, a warning.

She whipped around to see William Turner, the man with the destiny that permeated her senses like a strong perfume. He was running along the deck, dashing between opposed swords men as if he didn't notice them, moving with purpose towards the captain's cabin.

It was exactly like she remembered seeing it. She could see the whole image clearly then. Four parts of the battle all overlapping in her mind. Tia watched them all at once like separate pictures in four panes of a window.

She knew what her task was.

As soon as Mercer left him alone Cutler locked the door behind him. He felt cold with panic. Hands shaking slightly he looked back and forth between loading a set of twin pistols and the door he was sure would be bashed in at any moment.

What had he been thinking? This was no place for a politician, no place for a Lord and an Englishman.

He added the gunpowder unsteadily, scattering it across the charts and papers as he did so. Then shot, which took several tries, afterwards he struggled with ramrod until the guns were at last loaded.

He sat in his high-backed chair. The gun trained on the locked door. He rested his arm against the desk to steady himself. In one hand he had the pistol trained on the door, about where a man's heart would be. In the other hand he gripped tightly sack the throbbed steadily, inside was the Heart of Davy Jones.

Cutler Beckett was no longer sure what might be happening outside. He didn't know if they were winning or if the pirates had broken their lines. He didn't know, much less care, if any of his crew members were even alive outside, and he didn't take the time to wonder. The only thing he knew with absolute certainty what that he was going to shoot the very next person that walked through that door.

* * *

No sooner than their boots touched the deck were Elizabeth and James confronted by several uniformed officers of Her Majesty's Royal Navy brandishing sabers. Norrington didn't take time to tell Elizabeth what to do; he simply tossed her his pistol and hoped she would know what to do with it.

Will was an excellent swordsman, but also a holistic teacher. He wouldn't have dreamed of focusing on Elizabeth's swordsmanship and neglect her education with pistols. Without much effort Elizabeth fired and took down the first soldier who approached her.

The other two concentrated on Norrington, who's superior training came in very handy. Neither he nor his opponents were giving ground, but it was only a matter of time before one of them slipped up.

Elizabeth couldn't help him, another soldier had appeared out of the smoke. She rolled and recovered the sword of the fallen sailor.

James was now backing way from his attackers; they were backing him into the railing. The first soldiers overextended himself on a swing letting James duck beneath his guard and slash him across the chest. The man screamed and distracted his friend. James took the advantage, striking out at the second man cutting a nasty graze in his shoulder.

Elizabeth held her own against the her assailant, she got just close enough to disarm him with Will's patented move. The sailor surprised her, making a grab for her sword. Elizabeth spun way quickly making the man loose his footing and tumble over the railing.

Elizabeth and Norrington looked up at the same time. In slow motion they watched the injured enemy, blood running down his white sleeve, raise his pistol. He pointed the barrel first at the former commodore he seemed to change his mind and he shifted his aim so it rested on Elizabeth Swann.

Elizabeth's eye's went wide with terror. She tried to scream but the sound caught in her throat.

Norrington didn't consider what he was about to do before he jumped in front of the bullet. It didn't last long, there was a flash of pain, but that disappeared soon. He felt the impact with his chest, but he didn't hear anything. He didn't realize that Elizabeth had at last found her voice and screamed, and he never heard what it was she said.

There wasn't time for any of that, because it was all over in the space of time it took a drop of water to hit the ground below. All there was a heavy coldness and a thought that passed through his head as he died, soothing like the should of rain tapping on your windows, lulling you to sleep. So this is it, he thought, what it feels like to be a hero.

* * *

Without much thought as to what he was about to do, and light-headed from blood loss, Jack ran across the tilting deck and started climbing one handed up the nearest bit of rigging with the swiftness of one who had spent his life climbing such ropes.

He had heard Elizabeth talking to him. He smiled a little and the sound of her voice.

In the Back of his mind Jack heard an argument with himself going on.

Davy what right.

In so many ways he was Jones.

To think, just as with the Kraken's keeper, he had been appointed unto a heavy destiny he never wanted. Just like Jones he was doomed to love that which he couldn't have, and to have that object be the source of his suffering.

Live Jones that love was the tool by which he had lost his proverbial heart.

But then he knew what that wasn't right. Never had so much truth and falsehood been the same statement.

He could love, unlike Jones. And that was something Davy Jones could never have again.

Wait, he would think again, was dying like this the coward's way out? Was he about to die, like Jones had in a way died, to ease the pain of loving that which doesn't love you…or worse now…loving she whose end would be directly his own doing.

As all these things fluttered instantaneously through his mind, Jones also set up a startling cry against the wind and torrent. "You'll never win Jack! You'll never be free!"

Jack felt the tug on the rigging as Jones climbed to follow him. He kept his eyes skyward, and (as if to prepare himself for the his last thought) constructed Elizabeth's face in his mind.

The was a sudden lurch in his head. He heard her screaming again. It made Jack shudder bodily. Was it over then? Was she dead anyway? He almost lost his grip on the ropes and fell backwards.

"I never said I was sorry!" Something cracked inside of Elizabeth, and again he wondered why he shared her thoughts. For what purpose? But at least she was alive.

He felt more than he heard Davy Jones saying he would catch him.

* * *

Will grabbed the handle and pulled savagely at the door, as if he might wrench it off it's hinges should it choose not to come willingly. The doorframe of the captain's cabin shuttered under the strain.

Tia Dalma's had closed around his and stopped him for the moment. "Stop William."

He turned away from her, seeing not reason to stop here. Not when he was so close.

Tia drew his eyes back into hers. "Below deck, dere you must go." Will again tried to shake her off.

"If not for my warning William, for Elizabef den?" She was so frantic he could help but stop again. Her words had a strange effect on him. He had to heed her warning. Something seemed to be screaming in his head that he was supposed to listen to her.

He nodded to her curtly, almost against his will, and went swiftly.

Tia Dalma's had was now on the handle to the door, but her love of life held strong enough to make he hesitate there for a long instant in time.

* * *

Elizabeth blinked way the stinging of regret, regret for a thing lost she had not known she possessed.

She raised the sword she held in a white knuckled grip and flung it hard and true so it spun though the air and the tip disappeared in the Navy officer's chest. He his the deck with a thud. "Thanks for that Will." She sighed under her breath.

Knowing what she would find she still ran and fell to her knees on the deck by James's side. He was gone of course, he had been dead before he hit the ground. Elizabeth, though, could not have quenched that smallest spark of hope.

She felt herself starting to shake again. Again one of her pillars of strength, another wall to her stronghold had fallen and she felt vulnerable without him. Her eyes were heavy with the unshed tears, but she wouldn't cry. She could morn James Norrington the hero later, properly, but now she couldn't not cry or others would die too. Others far too dear to loose.

She squinted though the smoke and spotted will out of the crowding throng of the fighting and dying. She might have missed him, would have had he been any other, but that his manner and form were so familiar to her.

She sometimes crept, sometimes fought her way though the clash. Moving slowly thought the fighting mass, unlike Will who had reached the door to the captain's cabin. Between frantic dashes Elizabeth saw him put his shoulder to the door and try to bash it in.

She was cut of by the collapse of burning debris form above, and had to double back to try to get to him. When she glanced up toward him again he seemed to have vanished, in his place what another figure familiar only for her otherworldliness.

* * *

He wasn't sure what he was looking for at first. Of course he wasn't.

The first of the lower galleries was unnaturally empty and dark. Before he had even made it to the ship, Will imagined, pirates flooding in and overwhelming the soldiers below.

He squinted and tried to see beyond the light from the trap door above. He heard a slight scuffling in the dark to the right. Will stumbled through the deck, his hand stretched out in front of him heading for a pin point of light at the other end.

The closer he came the more he realized there was a struggle going on in the murk. Words became audible, and voices became familiar.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Lord Beckett says you've outlived your usefulness."

"No, Mercer, put that down. Get away from me."

"Governor Swann?" Will called out in alarm.

Both the frightened and vicious faces turned to look at them, spectral and unreal in the light of the single guttering lantern.

Everything happened very fast. Will charged the Mercer with his sword upraised. The clerk shuffled backwards and kicked over the lantern leaving them in pitch black.

In the confusion Will, somehow, lost his sword. Mercer and William struggled in the dark, and Will felt the tip of Mercer's knife graze a long cut across his forearm.

He grabbed out blindly for Mercers wrist, and by some perverse sense of good luck he caught it and held it high above his enemies hand.

Again Will's body was way ahead of his mind. Out of instinct he twisted the wrist savagely into an unnatural position, and had just enough presence of mind to fell the knots tighten it his stomach when he heard the crack of bones breaking. The knife clattered to the floor.

"William? William Turner?!" The governor sounded half hysterical somewhere in the dark.

The two men continued to wrestle in the dark. Wills fingers closed around Mercer's throat and began to squeeze. Horrible gasping sputtering noises ensued as the clerk began to strangulate. Mercer struggled, fought to get away and gurgled grotesquely…then was suddenly still. He fell back and his head cracked sickeningly against the hard wood floor.

"Will!"

"I'm here." Will groped in the darkness. And caught hold of Weatherby's shoulder. Swann jumped. "It's alright…he's dead."

Will felt the hot, thick dampness of blood on his hands. He new it was his blood, running down his arm form where Mercer had cut him, but that didn't change the sensations horror. Will slumped against the wall unable to shake the feeling that Mercer's dead eyes were staring at him in the dark. He couldn't change the fact that he had killed a man with his bare hands.

Was he pirate enough now? Had he ever been anything else?

He felt sure he was going to be sick.

* * *

Tia saw Elizabeth trying to work her way through the smoke and the fighting. She was out of time for waiting and weighing her chances.

When she had finally told Jack, because he deserved to know what she planned on doing even if he didn't know she was doing it for him, he had tried so hard to convince her not to go. That was really the reason she new she had to.

"What if I told you that I wanted you to give it all up? What if I ask you, very politely, to stay behind and let whatever happens happen? Would you stay behind if I asked you to?" It was the night after she had first told him. He had obviously not slept at all and instead thought intently about what he really wanted.

He saw her eyes tear up. "Why?" He asked again.

She shook her head, he couldn't have bore it. He couldn't have born the truth.

"Why won't you tell me, why you have to go?" Jack still loved Tia Dalma. Not the way he loved Elizabeth, but in a very very really way. He could never have chosen between them.

Tia shook her head again and walked away.

In the present Elizabeth was getting closer and Tia still hadn't opened the door. Did she want to do this?

She had to do this.

She was happy to do this thing.

Elizabeth was yelling at her, "Tia! Where is Will?"

Elizabeth was coming closer. Tia Dalma tightened her grip on the handle to the locked door.

Inside the room Culter Beckett tensed, raising one of the pistols in both hands. He saw the handle trembling. Someone was trying to get in…again. Should he shoot now?

Elizabeth was still shouting across the deck. "Is the Heart in there? Tia! We have to get in there!"

There was no more time, because if she didn't go now Elizabeth would be the next person to open that door.

Tia turned the handle.

The first shot was an almost dream like sensation, mostly because it missed and the clap of noise it made was drowned out by a sudden fit of yelling in the background.

Tia slammed the locked door behind her and it was still locked when Elizabeth reached it and started rattling the handle.

Cutler Becket scrambled for his other pistol, his fingers closed around it. Tia Dalma grabbed the sack, pulsating with the motion of the Heart of Davy Jones.

Cutler leveled the muzzle of the gun at her. "Drop it!" He seemed to change his mind suddenly, "Set the Heart on the desk!" His hand shook very slightly.

"I know you."

"I'm Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Company. Everyone knows me." Elizabeth was yelling and kicking the door.

"On de day you branded Jack Sparrow him said somfin' to you. Him said he would find you."

"Who are you?"

"I'm here to fulfill dat promise."

Cutler fired. That shot wasn't surreal, that shot was very real…

Tia felt it, she felt all of it. She felt it enter through her chest and mover through her body. She felt it burry itself in the wall behind her.

She didn't move, or fall. In fact, she smiled. "You should have run Lord Cutler Beckett." She spat the words and took a step closer to him. It was like she wasn't human, the shot hadn't affected her at all.

Tia took another step. "Get away from me!" Beckett's voice what high pitched and raspy with terror.

Elizabeth had found a gun. A bullet tore away the locks, and she burst into the room.

Cutler Beckett didn't take more time to contemplate the situation. He ran from the room, displacing his last shreds of dignity and shouldering his way past Elizabeth.

"Tia!" Elizabeth's voice was shrill. Her eyes went from Tia Dalma's face to the burlap sick with the Heart beating inside, so the blood on the wall behind her. The Voodoo priestess's breath quickened to a shallow kind of gasping.

Elizabeth couldn't catch her before she fell to the ground. She lifted Tia's head and looked into her dim and distant eyes. There was blood on her lips.

Tia pressed the sack into Elizabeth's hands. "Stab da Heart, Elizabef. Save Jack…for, da bof of us."

And then she was still.

* * *

Jack crept carefully backwards along the brace to the mizzenmast. His injured arm hung limp at his side, the dull pulsing ache rising to an echoing scream every time he shifted his weight or moved in the roaring wind. The icy rain was like knives stabbing up and down along his shoulder.

"You look scared Jack…you can still feel fear-ah?"

Jack glared and continued backing away, working very hard not to look down and wheeling his good arm for balance.

"I have been thinking Jack—"

"You know, it is statements like that that just scream invitations for snide comments…"

"I think that you have come a very long way just to get killed." Davy moved along the brace in an unnerving manner. His feet, or foot and pegged leg, sinking to become a part of the ship so that he always had impeccably good footing.

Jack continued being impertinent. "You have amazingly good balance for a fish. I wonder, do you find the eel to be an attractive creature?"

Davy laughed, but not a Jack's off color humor. "You are avoiding the question aren't you? You want something from me and yet you don't want something from me. Lord, I wonder that your compass ever worked at all!"

Jack looked down at last. What was he thinking? Maybe he was deciding whether it was too soon to risk his expiration, or if the trauma of impact was preferable to stabbing. Either way the world began to swim in a liquid mixture between vertigo and blood loss, and an almost palpable fear that Davy Jones was absolutely right.

"You want something from me…" Jones continued to muse.

Jack started to fall backwards, with only a little part of his brain yelling that he should be upset about that.

In the breadth of a blink Davy was there, his tentacled hand pulling Jack upright, and his claw was around Jack's neck. It didn't seem right that Davy Jones should whisper compellingly into one's ear but he did.

"Just stop postponing your impendent end and ask your question. Then I'll grant your final wish for you. Who says I'm not resplendently merciful?"

One must experience it to understand it, Jack supposed when it happened to him. That moment when death is so close that you can hear its foot steps down the hall, that is when you sense the whole world is listening to you. Like the earsplitting silence when you see the glass falling to the stone floor and you are weighting for the inevitable sound of shattering.

The rain drops each had a separate echo, like an individual voice lost in a tumultuous chorus. And his heart beat was the loudest thing of all. How insignificant was the sound of a heart beat?

To die now was no more significant to him or the world than the sound of the single rain drop lost in the sea a hundred meters away. So what was a question and it's answer in the grand scheme of things?

He asked. "When I was sixteen and a stowaway aboard a certain merchant vessel, there was a girl with bluer than sky eyes and auburn hair who died at sea of a gunshot wound to the stomach. What was the name of the pirate ship that attacked that day?"

* * *

The Heart beat in her hand. What was more significant than that heart beat? Elizabeth could think of nothing.

She had a knife in her right hand, she had the Heart in her left, and yet she did nothing. Why? What was she waiting for? Was it the sense that what she was about to do was just to BIG for one woman to handle?

No.

The feeling was real, but, for Jack, Elizabeth would have traded places with Atlas and held up the sky. So why wait. If she waited any longer Jack would die. Or perhaps he was already dead…

She shook of that thought, experiencing a shoot of physical heartache. What was more significant than the heart? She wondered again. Everything circled the heart, like the earth around the sun, or a moth to a flame. The heart was King, regent, ruler of the human race. She had come to far, driven by all the deepest, most suicidal, impulses of the heart. She couldn't stop now…

…and yet she did.

"What am I waiting for?" She asked silently.

Answers, answered the comforting voice in her head.

* * *

Davy's answer didn't take the form of words. He didn't need words. All he did was grin. Widely. Manically, like a feral cat that has at last finished toying with its supper.

"You." Jack said. It wasn't so much a word as a tremor in the air. "YOU! After years of pointless searching…after asking you for HELP!" Years devoted to finding Arabella's killer, more years still resolving himself to the fact that he never would.

He wouldn't actually have known what happened in the battle. He had been unconscious for its larger part, below deck for the rest. He never saw the captain's face. He never saw the ship.

The door to revenge was swinging the other way, and through it Jack strode, eyes blazing with unmasked hatred like nothing he had ever felt before.

Jack plunged his sword upward and watched the tip emerge out of Davy's back.

Jones didn't seem moved for a moment.

Then he stiffened.

What ever it had been, that moment of wondering and waiting for someone else's answers, it was over.

Elizabeth Swann stabbed the Heart.

Brackish blood coated Davy Jones lips. He looked down at the sword in his chest and back to Jack, disbelief dripping from his face like the black blood in great drops.

"I don't…believe it…" He rasped.

Jack answered with his own grin, a real grin, and twisted the blade cruelly a glint of malice and something else in his eyes. "You'd better start."

Davy Jones knew he was dying, he knew the heart had been stabbed, somehow, at that moment. He could barely form the question as the black walls began closing in. "How's it poss…possible?"

"When you thought that you could beat me…outrun my retribution, you forgot one VERY important thing, mate." Davy's eyes widened, his body convulsed in the death throws. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Jack pulled the sword out of Davy Jones's body with a sickening sound, whatever grip he had had on the brace slipped. He fell with a slight gasp and hit the deck hundreds of feet below with a sound that Jack heard over the rain.

"Now neither of us will forget that again." Jack took a breath, it was cold and fresh, like the first breath he had ever taken.

He looked up into the rain, hear the sea roaring around him, felt the motion of the ship move through his body, leaned against the mast and noticed each tiny curve in the wet wood…and he loved it.


	12. Chapter 16

**(Chapter Eighteen)**

**Last Premonition**

I didn't take long for Jack to find his way into the hold.

He had never been so aware of his heartbeat. He had never noticed the way his blood flowed through his veins and the way the air filled his lungs…so completely.

At first he wasn't quite sure what he had been meaning to look for here. He wasn't sure if it was the return of his soul, or the blood loss, or the vertigo that was causing the dizzying euphoria. Not matter, he was having a hard time concentrating on his next move.

Jack looked around for a while, the hold of the ship was as creepy as he might have imagined, and found himself some barnacled bottles of rum. He decided against them.

Still he sat down and shook the bottles to listen to the liquid swish around inside and to think. He closed his eyes and let himself imagine, as he hadn't done for months now, the smell of the ink on the musty charts and the sound of the compass spinning. The constant motion of the ship around him and the passing though him like the vibration of a thousand strains of music.

He tried then to think clearly. Everything snapped into a sharp kind of awareness. The first thing to do was to stop the bleeding in his shoulder. He found some wadding cloths to press against the wound. Even the pain was refreshing, because it was all so real. Real was something he had missed. Living with only half a soul had been like walking through a dreamland and hearing a voice trying to call you awake, but trying desperately to maintain you dream.

Next he would find his friend, and next he would return to his crew. And next…And next. The new awareness snapped through his future steps in an infinite fast forward.

Jack was drenching in rainwater, which his pushed form his eyes as he picked his way through the below deck labyrinth toward the brig. Jack stopped with a sudden foreboding at the warped wooden door, with a single barred porthole into the darkness. He wasn't sure he wanted to find whatever was beyond it.

The cell door opened easily from the outside. The fist thing that struck him was the smell. He swallowed to keep himself from gagging on the sour rotting smell mingled with the tang of blood.

The second thing was a voice. "Jack?" It was a low whisper, pained and straining, and Jack squinted in the dimness to find it's source.

"Bootstrap? Where are you?" Jack sidled over to a huddled form.

"My son…" Bill Turner asked the foremost question in his mind. "Do you have word of William…"

Jack foundered for words of comfort. "He's fine, I'm sure he's fine. Not that easy to kill your son. I've tried a couple times myself with no luck at all." Jack smiled carefully unable to make it reach his eyes. Bootstrap turned his head to look at him. The change in his face was stunning. Yes, his visage lacked the corruption that had come from the deal with Davy Jones, but it was the hollowness of his eyes the white of his skin. The grief forged creases in his face and the dimming eyes that looked up into Jack's.

"You'll find him for me, won't you…you'll tell him I was free in the end…won't you?" Jack didn't answer. His natural tendency to avoid the realities he didn't like kicking in like it had never been out of order.

"You are wounded?"

Bootstrap smiled slightly, Jack's friend was still in there, and laughed. Though it might have been a cough. "I am dying. You must promise me. You must promise Jack…"

A sharp pain shot through Jacks heart, like the reopening of an old wound. Jack realized then, that he would never heal. Every moment there would me a reminder of his imprisonment, his wounded spirit…the scar on his soul.

"Tell him…He fulfilled his promises to me. Tell him I never forgave myself for leaving him. Tell him…tell him not to mourn my passing." The elder William Turner looked carefully at Jack's expression. "That goes for you too Jack."

"I promise."

Then, as if those were the only words he had been holding on for Bootstrap Bill Turner passed from the world with only three words for his benediction. "Good-bye old friend."

* * *

So it was in this way that the battle turned. When the pirates, under Will's command, overran the Endeavor, it was a final deadly blow to the fleet, which was already scattering under the pressure form the pirate forces.

With no sign of their commanders, the EICT ships were routed and turned back towards port.

The remaining crew upon the Pearl was relieved to see their captain return alive. They would later recount how Davy Jones's minions had looked up into the sky all in unison before the curse was lifted. Some, who would have been nearly a century dead, simply crumbled into dusk, while others upon receiving their freedom threw themselves into the roiling sea and were gone. Those that neither disappeared nor ended their long hated existence, numbering no more than ten altogether, attacked, but in such a way that they didn't seem to care, and almost took pleasure upon their enemies cutlass point.

Jack ordered them to leave the Dutchman unmanned and anchored to its spot. "Another man's prize." He called it. "God willing he'll still be breathing when we get there."

That same day, as the sun was beginning to settle, and shooting brilliant colored lights all about them, the pirate fleet all gathered. There, in the empty expanse of water, each ship held a private wake for their fallen comrades, before their burial at sea.

Elizabeth said words for Norrington in a choked voice, and Will squeezed her hand in comfort.

Jack and his small crew, Gibbs among them, stayed away from the ceremony. Jack said they would be only in the way of the others, and out of the spirit of the thing. Gibbs nodded, and didn't question the sentiment, unwilling to guess what friends of his own might have met their end.

The Black Pearl too had a small proceeding. Gibbs spoke of course, and Jack, breaking out of his newly reacquired character, broke out the rum for his shipmates. Jack stood for a very long time at the prow, looking out into the see with his spyglass, gazing over the twinkling lights of the fleet. Listening to Elizabeth's thoughts. Around midnight he shook Gibbs awake.

"I'll be gone till morning. Wait for me."

Jack commandeered one of the life boats and took his time rowing to the Endeavor. All the while thinking what he was going to do. What was he going to say if he got there and the ones he needed to see weren't?

It was a relief to be alone for a while. Even the half-dozen he was sharing his ship with where too many for him to have piece. Every once in a while the idea that he had been a better captain after the Locker came through his head. He didn't know why he had missed all his selfishness. He didn't really like the person that he was in those moments.

Finding the Endeavor was and easy business. All the other ships had gathered around it like the spokes of a wheel.

The deck was empty but for a lone figure. Jack lurked in the shadows for a while listening to a lilting voice tossed back and forth by the wind and the waves.

_Long we've tossed on the rolling main_  
_Now we're safe ashore, Jack_  
_Don't forget your old shipmate_  
_Fal dee ral dee ral dee rye eye doe!_

But the best of friends must part  
Fair or foul the weather  
Hand yer flipper for a shake  
Now a drink together

The voice that stood on the empty deck cracked, and the song broke into racking sobbs.

"Don't go." The woman said, but she wasn't talking to Jack. As far as he could tell, she didn't know anyone as there. But he recognized the voice.

"Bethanna?" That made not sense at all. Why would she be alone here?

"Jack?" She turned to look at him. There was little more than moonlight on the deck, but Jack could imagine her red eyes and the trails of tears on her cheeks. "None of us thought you were alive. Save Turner's girl, but I guess she would wouldn't she?"

Jack didn't know what she meant by that. "Where's Ana?"

Beth turned abruptly away. Jack waited, not pressing. After a pregnant pause, she said. "Ask the captain. I am not ready to speak of it, so ask Captain Turner. Sad thing, he might be takin' it harder than I."

Jack frowned deeply "I'm sorry." He said in barely a whisper. Anamaria's first mate nodded.

"I keep a vigil for her tonight."

"I won't disturb you, then. Know, I would join you but I have other promises to keep myself." Beth, nodded again and continued to stare into the distance.

Jack found Will without much trouble, and watched him sleep fitfully for a while before waking him up. Will looked terrible. His eyes great dark hollows of grief, his mouth tightened into an expression that suggested he wouldn't trust what he was looking at, no matter what I was. His voice was ragged. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Jack grinned nastily. "Pity, I should be alive, isn't it?"

Will shook himself and adopted a kindlier tone. "What do you want, Jack?"

"I have a message for you…from you father."

Will and Jack spoke for hours. Jack told Will all that had transpired on the Dutchman and Will returned the favor with an account or the battle or the two fleets.

Will took the news of his fathers death very hard, unsurprisingly. But he bore up under the pressure better than Jack would have guessed. He seemed to have reconciled himself to it. And after Jack told Will all Boot-strap had asked of him, they sat silent for a long time.

"The body is there…On the ship. I am leaving it there for you. You can decide what to do with the Dutchman. I think that is what was supposed to happen anyway, eh?"

When Will explained that Tia Dalma hadn't survived Jack didn't seem surprised or shaken. Will subscribed that to Jack's general heartless nature.

Jack never did ask Will about how Anamaria had died. Something told him that he was never to mention her to the boy, and that was alright because he felt the scar in his soul burn at the thought of her anyway.

When the sky started to color with sunrise, Will finally mentioned Elizabeth. "Will you go speak to her?"

"Yes, yes. I'll see her before I leave."

"You're leaving her then?" Will looked at him accusingly.

"Yea, but that was what you expected wasn't it." Will frowned more deeply with thought. Jack didn't want to leave her. He never did something he didn't want to do. That was odd.

"But you will say good-bye?" Jack nodded.

When he left, the dawn was an elaborate tapestry mounted on a wall of blue and clouds. Jack found where Elizabeth was sleeping. She was sleeping in an uncomfortable looking cot in a private cabin. Her hair was splayed across her face, her fingers tightly entangled in the bedspread.

Jack gently brushed the caramel tresses way from her cheeks and watched the light of the rising sun play with golden shots of sunlight and turn her hair into spun gold.

"I wonder." He whispered softly. "If you can understand, that the only way I can save you…is running away." She stirred in her sleep. He dropped his voice still lower so she wouldn't wake. "I'll never be without you. Goodbye."

Then he disappeared form the room like a coward and left the ship without seeing anyone else.

* * *

Then next day Elizabeth and her father were truly reunited. On the day of the battle things had been to frenzied for them to do more than acknowledge each others presence, but as soon as they were both awake they sat down together and talked.

They both of the noted the changes in the other. Governor Swann seemed older and worn about the edges. Elizabeth seemed filled to the brim with life or anxiety.

When Elizabeth at last told her father that she would not be going home, he did not protest as she had expected. Instead he nodded and said he would be barter for passage home where ever he could get it.

He had lost his protective possessiveness; He had even lost his sense of pomp and superiority. He kissed his daughter goodbye, in case he mightn't have another chance. "You will come round from time to time, to visit an old man. I am buying passage on another ship. I promised to pay my own ransom if they'd take me back. I've had far more of pirates than I care to speak of."

"Aye." She said in perfect pirate fashion. "I'll drop you line for time to time. You know I probably have my own poster by now. Port Royal will not be the safest place for me.

"Then I wish you luck daughter." They embraced, and several hours later he left aboard a war ragged skiff.

When Will finally awoke, for he slept very late, he ordered his crew to sail for the Flying Dutchman.

"Those who want to may join me and crew that ship, and Bethanna will have the captaincy here." Will rubbed his eyes and yawned yet again.

Elizabeth had a far off look in her eyes, and she kept he eye on the horizon, waiting for a ship to come out of the mist. One black sail was all the reassurance she need. However, even she noticed the bagged eyes and drawn tired expression Will plodded along the deck with.

Finally, when the Flying Dutchman appeared on the horizon, like an apparition returned to it's former coral-less glory, and Will didn't bat and eye, Elizabeth approached him.

"Are you alright?" She asked, almost jovially. In her mind, she was telling herself "Not to long now, you'll see him soon. Soon!"

Will looked at her gravely with an amount of concern that she didn't feel she entirely merited. "Are you?"

"I'll be better in a little while." Will frowned. She seemed to be taking to abandonment very well. Will's frowning was cut short with another yawn.

"You tired?" Elizabeth tilted her head to look at him.

"Yes. I should think you would be to."

"I don't see why."

"Well, talking to Jack all hours of the night doesn't help much."

"What?"

"What what?" Will asked inscrutably.

Elizabeth punched him solidly in the shoulder. "You saw Jack? You saw him, and you didn't tell me? I have been sick with worry about him! You! You absolute—"

"Wait, wait…You didn't know? He didn't come to speak to you." Will backed up, incase she turned violent again, his face a mass of boldfaced astonishment. "He told me he was going to tell you…"

"Tell me what!" Elizabeth's voice was rising in pitch along with her agitation.

"He said he would go back and say good-bye. He told me he would speak to you. You swear you didn't see him."

"You think I would lie about something like this?" Her voice was thick with emotion.

Will slammed his fist against the railing. "Ow!…No, you wouldn't…He would."

"I cannot believe this."

"Really?" Will asked unkindly, but then his voice softened when he looked at her. "I'm so sorry Elizabeth."

"Why would he leave without saying goodbye."

"Maybe because he couldn't leave that way. He probably sailed away this morning."

"Sailed away…Don't sail away." Elizabeth began to mumble to herself. Will put his arm around her shoulder to steady her. "He wouldn't…he couldn't…"

"You've got to calm down. Elizabeth. You must start to let him go."

Elizabeth turned and looked at him, her eyes bright and excited, crazed even. "He wouldn't sail away, Will! He would sail back!"

Will blinked, uncomprehending.

"He had no crew, no weapons, no provisions. He couldn't go to sea. He had to go to port!"

"He would go back to Tortuga." Will nodded at last.

"Take me there!" She was shaking slightly with hope.

Will put both ands on her shoulders. "You want to go to him? After he did this to you? He tried to hurt you. Purposefully tried to hurt you." Elizabeth shook her head.

"I know that. I know he wanted me to hate him. He's tried it before."

"Your not making any sense at all." Will raised his voice, as upset as she was beseeching.

"I don't know that I can explain it to you, but if he wants to leave me. Really wants to, I mean. Then he will have to tell me to my face. I must know why. I have to see him again. Will you? Please Will, will you take me to him?" Her eyes shone slightly like her heart would break.

"I'll take you anywhere." He said softly.

And she smiled so that her entire face was transformed to a place of sunshine of magic…and kissed Will full on the lips.

* * *

The Black Pearl wasn't hard miss, and after bidding Will goodbye Elizabeth ran all along the beach and up the peer to get to it.

Will watched her, his heart only aching lightly, his mouth upturned in the faintest of smiles.

"She'll be alright I think." Bethanna said quietly from behind him.

"You didn't have to come with me. Why didn't you take the Endeavor."

"I will not dirty my soul on that blood ship." Will looked a little startled by his new first mate. "Besides, maybe I wanted to see what my friend and captains seemed to see in you." She pushed her sun bleached, white blonde hair out of her eyes, revealing a feminine blush on her cheeks. She smiled at him.

"Shall we then, Officer?"

Beth turned and began yelling orders. Will looked after her and shook his head. They way pirate wenches caught his eye of late was darn near Sparrowesque. Maybe he was going to turn into another dashing pirate playboy. "I certainly hope not." He said to himself.

He placed his hand on the helm and they took to open water…

Still Will had the unnerving feeling that the ship wasn't entirely without a mind of it's own.

Elizabeth padded aboard the ship, laughing and panting for breath, smiling with the thrilling exhilaration of a playful game of tag with school time comrades. Elation juggled here voice amongst several musical pitches as she called. "Jack?" She smiled and looked around her. "Gibbs? Is anyone here?"

The ship was utterly deserted, so she resolved to wait for them to return. She settled herself upon a barrel and started to sing wordlessly to herself.

Oh, what would Jack think when he saw her? He would be pleased? No. He would be angry, she thought. She hoped he would be mad at her. That would speak volumes all on its own. She wanted to she his face harden and hear him try to rationalize why she couldn't come with him. Then…she didn't know what she wanted…or if she did she wouldn't think about it.

She looked around her, at the port. There were some familiar ships here, The Ivory Edge was hear, and several others in its party. There was The Irishman and The Fury with its massive prison-barge-bulk filling up unnatural space.

She looked at the sun where it was beginning to set. What if Jack didn't come back by than night? What if he came back in the wee hours of the morning?

Well she wasn't going to stay up and wait. She would just go to sleep…in the captain's cabin. At least that way he wouldn't miss her. Yes, that would get his attention.

She had just made herself comfortable when she heard, or thought she heard, a door slam. She turned around and looked. She saw no one, but she had been wrong before. "Hello?" she called warily into the blackness that led below. The blackness stared back at her rather unhelpfully.

She went down the steps cautiously, foreboding what creeping along her skin like the cold night air. She shivered. Squinting into the darkness she called again. Nothing.

She turned to resurface into the warm sun.

Then she felt a rough hand grab her by the hair. Overlong fingernails raked her scalp and a voice laughed with poisonous good humor, "Ah, and I was thinking you would make this difficult."

Then the blackness became very dark indeed.

* * *

Jack came back alone. Gibbs had conscripted new sailors, and the others who had been with him on Jack's confrontation with the Flying Dutchman said they would stay. But there were a series of orgies and parties and pleasures to be had in the town tonight, and Jack had no taste for any of it.

He just go "home" and wait for them to return in the morning.

The sun wasn't officially down yet. There was plenty of light to walk by, the sky was amber with setting sunlight and Jack studied his boots and the way they meandered here and there while he walked.

His right arm ached and throbbed. It was unpleasant and distracting. He kept it in a sling of yellowed linen and tried to ignore that fact that it would make it impossible to draw his sword properly.

Jack found himself to be consistently depressed about everything not. The lack of rum had depressed him. Then the ineffectiveness of rum to relieve the depression depressed him, and then the lack of rum depressed him again.

He was depressed about the state of his ship, his crew, his arm. He wasn't crazy about the way the wind was blowing at the moment, and he had never trod upon a more obstinately depressing peer in his life. The depression was just a cover for the real reason he was unhappy. And there was nothing to be done for that.

His feet found their way, walking along unconsciously, and he didn't look up till he was aboard the ship. He was so tired, and what was the point of it all anyway…Jack's mental ramblings when on. He was saying to himself that the benefit to not having all of one's self intact was that at least then there was no one to argue with.

"Not as perceptive as you once were are you Jack." Jack whipped around at the sound of that voice.

"There was a time when you could have sensed a trap before it was devised." Jack turned and looked around him, searching for the source of these rather mocking musings.

"Who's there?" He asked.

"I truly am disappointed that you don't know Jack. And we were such good friends too." The voice laughed at him.

"I know who it sounds like, but I also know that he should have no reason to be on my ship." Jack's voice became biting and angry.

"Oh, how wrong you can be." Barbossa appeared form behind a shadow, his face spread in a wide grin, his pistol cocked and pointed at Elizabeth's head.

"God…" Jack choked quietly.

Elizabeth was gagged and trembling. One crystalline tear was winding its way around her cheek. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Was the only thought he could read.

"It's actually a rather tragic thing, I'll have you know."

"What are you doing?" Jack asked ignoring the comment.

"I had had beautiful plans for revenge plotted out for you actually. I thought I might lead you and a wild chase around the world, following intrigue after intrigue, until I finally killed you the way you killed me. Let you task a moment of triumph and then dash the cup for your lips, you see?"

"You want to kill me?" Jack still didn't quite comprehend, or except, what was happening here.

"I want to torture you, and take you apart piece by piece…or wanted to. Then another avenue presented itself in the form of your friend, the simpering whelp, and his adored object." Barbossa reached up and grabbed Elizabeth's hair, pulling her head back sharply. She gave a muffled yelp. "She is quite the vision isn't she? I am hardly surprised she bewitched you too, the siren."

"You plan to kill her." Jack shifted into total control almost without time for the transition. His eyes took on an amused expression. He sounded completely unconcerned.

"Well, that is the general idea I suppose."

"Fine." Jack rested his left hand casually on his sword.

"Oh…oh no." Barbossa laughed loudly. "You can't play this game with me."

"No game. Shoot her, then I'll kill you. Again."

"No, that might work on another man, Jack, but not I. I know your tricks, you pseudo confidence, your brilliant acting."

"No acting required. She killed me, remember. I would be as happy to see her brains splattered all over the deck as I am sure you would be to kill me."

"You really think I haven't been paying good enough attention to call your bluff? I wouldn't have believed it possible until I saw it myself. Oh I have been watching you. And sometimes, it takes little more than the look on ones face to know. I know how you feel about this girl."

"You are mistaken."

"Am I?" He pressed the barrel of the gun harder against Elizabeth's temple until she winced and another tear rand down her face. Jack didn't bat and eye. "Well then, let's just test my theory." Barbossa drew his cutlass and set the against her chin. Elizabeth's face paled a little, Jack didn't move.

Barbossa began to slide the sharp edge of the blade along her jaw line, more tears appeared in her eyes, blood started running languidly form the cut. Elizabeth breathed in sharply, but in Jacks head he heard her, "Get away…please…please…he's going to kill you…"

Jack stayed stock still, save for the imperceptible tightening of he jaw. Ever ounce of self-control he possessed called on to steady him.

"So I really have wasted my time with a useless hostage?"

"It would seem so, yes." Jack grinned tightly.

"Well I don't need her then." Barbossa raised his as if he would slit her throat.

Jacks pistol was in his hand before thought could command the action. "STOP!" He cocked the gun.

"Ha ha, what are you going to do now Jack? Shoot the woman you love to kill me?" Jack's old first mate held his head behind Elizabeth's, eliminating clear targets. And Jack's weaker left hand was trembling slightly, he couldn't make the shot.

"Cruelty is this Jack Sparrow, to hold everything your enemy ever wanted before them and then take it away. This is my revenge on you Jack Sparrow, that you be cursed with seeing her fall dead, and that being that last thing you ever see."

Things happened very fast. Barbossa pushed Elizabeth away form him but kept his pistol trained on her heart, Jacks eyes followed her like they were supposed to and Barbossa cackled evilly.

Elizabeth stumbled and fell with a muffled yell through the gag.

There was a shout, Jack found it was him.

And then all there was, was rage and Elizabeth shouting into Jack's mind. "Not me Jack. Look, HE HAS ANOTHER GUN!"

And then he shot her.

* * *

The second gunshot was not so terrible as the first. Its echo was swallowed up in the sound of the one before. Its power wasn't felt by all aboard, only by the one who received it, and even he was not alive long enough to understand the importance of it.

Jack didn't even watch Barbossa fall, he was already moving, and didn't here his second final breath because he was listening to carefully for a sound of breath.

Elizabeth was still and silent, not just silent of breath but of mind. He couldn't see anything but blackness in her thoughts.

When Jack turned her to look at her face, so pale and he neck coved with blood, his whole mind and body convulsed because he wasn't seeing her anymore he had fallen backwards into all sorts of repressed memories…Arabella's blank dead eyes staring at him with accusations he had invented himself. The blood on her lips, on his lips. The sensation of holding her cold hand. The fingertips blue and dead, and he was covered in her blood…there was blood everywhere.

Jack pulled the gag away form Elizabeth's mouth. Her skin was colorless pale, her eyes were closed as if in sleep, and she didn't moved at all.

Dead, dead…he had let her die again…

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered opened, "Jack!" She gasped. She jerked forward like she was trying to sit up but was unable.

Her eyes rolled around in her head searching around, and when she looked at him it seemed to take a moment for everything to register. When it did at last, she slumped back. Jack caught her shoulders with is good arm, and Elizabeth leaned against him with her eyes closed, and chest moving in and out with shallow breath.

Jack looked at her carefully at her face, along the one side there was a deep purple bruise. Jack winced when he remembered that that had been his doing. Otherwise she seemed fine, save for the cut on her lip.

It was strange, Jack had been sure Barbossa had shot her.

Elizabeth's face tightened with pain. One hand when to her side, and Jack noticed a crimson stain now growing there on her shirt.

Jack loosed his right hand form the sling and pulled her shirt up a little to get a look. Elizabeth smiled privately at his touch. The wound didn't seem fatal, but the bullet had left a deep graze along her left side, which had been bleeding freely and running down her back and onto the deck so Jack hadn't seen it. He found some rags and pressed the against the cut.

"I think I'll live." Elizabeth said an a whispering voice, the best she could manage.

"You came looking for me?" Jack said, his voice was half of reproof, half of guilt.

"You weren't getting out of this that easily."

"You shouldn't have come. You're going to get yourself killed." He was all sense and indignation now. All business. That is until she trembled slightly with blood loss and emotion, then he was all alarm and tenderness and gentleness.

"I couldn't let you go. I never have been able to." She was very cold. It was hard to focus her eyes on his. She thought she might pass out soon.

"You could have been killed…" Jack speaking more to himself than to her now. "What then?" He looked at her, memorizing her features putting them away carefully, packing them in the storage of his mind. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

"I…" He tried again. "I don't want you with me."

"Just say it." She whispered. "We both know it."

"I…love you"

"I know."

Jack kissed her, holding on to her tightly. It was a kiss without guilt or reservation, filled with passion and rapture and realization.

Jack knew, knew like he knew his ship and better than he knew himself, that it would kill him to let go of her. And Elizabeth knew. Knew in her heart and soul and in the air that sparked and rushed around them, that she would never let him let her go.

The End

* * *

**(Epilogue)**

In some part of the ocean where the mist was gray and brooding like an unflattering reflection of the overcast sky, sound was relative to the listeners. The waves heard nothing and the sky heard nothing. The mist paid no mind to the song of oars slapping the surface of the water, and Cutler Becket had forgotten to listen to the sea-sounds. So, though the wind was howling and wreaking havoc on a once well maintained wig, and the choppy sometimes dangerous waves beat thundering time against one another and his boat, He heard nothing but his own voice. He was all alone but for the wind and waves, so he was all there was to listen.

"No, no…yes…no." Beckett's eyes were laced all across red, frightful and bloodshot. "Of course I can explain my actions…anyone in my position…you weren't in my position. Yes I knew was I was doing. I pride myself; I do, on my cogent thought. No…no…" He rambled endlessly, his thoughts were scattered like papers in a high wind. His condition was of the distant mind, so it seemed that for most of the time he did not know where he was. One could only guess, catching a few snatches of discernable conversation, he thought himself to be at his own trial. A hearing before a judge, interrogating him over the events that had lead to his position here in the midst of the sea. He had run form his conquered vessel, but left his sanity behind.

What kinds of flights of fancy, impossible terrors, and imaginings passed through his head, no one could guess. But for two days not, without food, and precious little water, Beckett's oars slapped against the gripping fingers of the sea, and the sea clasped his life boat all round and held it aloft in its hands like a favored gift.

The sea kept Lord Beckett, and ne'er showed him to another living soul.

Jack jerked awake and his fingers found the hilt of his sword. For a moment, he was looking into the darkness blindly, trying to remember where he was. What was his plan of action? Soon he relaxed and let his weakened grip fall form the sword.

He was aboard the Pearl, and his new crew had already ceased their bustling around a new ship, under the careful and every-so-slightly-smug guidance of Gibbs.

Jack rubbed his forehead with the heals of his hands, trying to push a recurring nightmare from behind his eyes. He was leaning stiffly against the wall at the head of his bed, sitting up with his boots still on and dozing…for the third time now?

He wasn't sure why he had thought sleeping would be easier after he was complete again. Now it seemed he had more things to dream about, the kind of things that woke him up in a dead panic.

His shoulder burned suddenly, like it was making fun of him. He winced, "Why can't you just die?" Elizabeth stirred somewhere to his left. He reached out and touched her cheek. She was breathing steadily, peacefully, as if she had nothing to worry about.

He suddenly didn't want to be there anymore, and stood up carefully, letting himself out of the cabin. Closing the door with a soft click, Jack walked down the deck just to hear the sound it made, and waved a slightly over disciplined deserter to relax, and hid himself behind closed doors with the charts. Sometimes he was able to loose himself in his maps and plotting, longitudes, latitudes and the like, until distraction found him. But nothing seemed to help his restless mind ignore exhaustion, or wish for sleep.

For hours his simply stared at the lines in the wood of the table. He gave himself a headache form sitting still to long. While his body was statuesque his mind stretched and grappled with thoughts to big for him to handle. And his nighmares were still with him, even awake. All he wanted was the pain to stop. Self inflicted mental torture was the only thing he couldn't runaway from.

Rattling of the door behind him made him turn. He gave Elizabeth the shallow reflection of a smile and turned back diligently to his idleness.

"Did you sleep?"

"No."

She sounded worried again. "Not at all?"

"No." Jack rested his head on his hand and closed his eyes long enough for images to cause a sharp pain in the scar on his soul.

"You can't go on like this…What are you doing here anyway?" The sky was just becoming lightened by false dawn.

"I am charting a course…" It was near enough to the truth, the truth he had needed to tell her since they left port.

"To where?" Elizabeth's tone was light, but not enough hide her apprehension, and Jack was to tired to restrain himself anymore. He couldn't do it anymore.

"Wherever you want to go."

"I don't care." Elizabeth laughed at him guardedly. "I'll go wherever you go."

"No. I mean, tell me where you are going and I will take you there."

"I want to stay here." Elizabeth's was suddenly angry. This was stupid. Why was he doing this? Why was he trying to ruin everything?

Jack was equally angry. He had been angry for days, and finally he didn't hide it anymore. He stood up so fast that the chair he was sitting on fell and struck the floor very loudly in the silence that followed. He took a moment to gather the words so they would sound like he wanted them to.

"Did you know that I could only sleep a few hours, sometimes less, after I came back?"

Elizabeth stepped backward as if it would protect her from what he was going say. "I had nightmares—A nightmare. I felt myself die every night. Every single night I died again, and each time it was as real or more real than you are now. I knew that I was going back to the Locker and I thought I would go mad. I did go mad. And then I would wake up so that the next night I could do it again." Jack's voice was so low, and so far from being cold. It was almost as if he was trying to comfort her with his voice, or comfort himself. As if the story he was telling was for the best. "I was chained to the mast of my ship, that mast." He pointed out a porthole. "Every night, and watch you leave me to die."

Elizabeth felt herself starting to loose her grip. Her throat began to hurt, and her eye stung.

"That all stopped two days ago. Now I don't sleep at all." Jack began to pace, to calm himself down. "I have new dreams. Worse ones. I can't close my eyes, I can't leave them opened. I am trapped with the certainty that one of these days you are going to die because of me, and my brain is doing me the favor of inventing your end every single night." Jack picked up a piece of chalk from the table and held it out to her. "I won't do it any more. So mark us a destination."

"I cannot believe I'm hearing this."

"Take the chalk." Jack talked over her.

"I don't believe you would do this."

"Make your mark or I will."

"I will not be 'protected' anymore."

"Don't do this, not now."

"This is my life, I want to live it!"

"I want you to have a life to live!"

"You want me out of the way so you can live your life, guilt free!"

"DAMN IT Elizabeth what do you want form me?!"

Elizabeth dropped her voice so he could hear the pleading there. "All I want it this. All I want it to be with you. I don't care what that'll cost me."

"But I am going to get you killed."

"How can you be so certain?"

Jack whispered with a volatile intensity that told her not to pry. "I am certain."

"So be it." Elizabeth walked behind Jack and sat his chair up on its legs. "Maybe my days are numbered. Maybe I won't live to see port again. And maybe my fate is based on the decision we make at this moment. But I don't need a seer or a soothsayer to tell me I am going to die some day. I knew, when I set foot on this ship for the first time, the risks of what I was doing. I face those. I choose those." Elizabeth pushed the hair from her face, and stuck a heroine's pose with her hands on her hips. "And if there is one thing this pirate's life has taught me, its that life is a vast ocean. It's unpredictable. It's capricious and dangerous and no one can out run it or master it. Some times life with give you tears. Sometimes just seawater, and no mater how long you stay afloat the waves always win in the end.

"So this is what I have decided. I'd rather live free than in fear. I'd rather fight than run. I'd rather face my fears and so gain that which I love, than hide and eventually loose it all anyway."

"Why would you want to stay with me?" Jack shook his head, almost grinning.

"It's a mystery Jack Sparrow." Elizabeth threw her arms around his neck.

"Very well. You promise to keep a hold on that life of yours…and I'll promise to give you something to do with it. I promise I won't--"

"Worry about me anymore. Just and enjoy life along with me. And you won't go leaving me behind anywhere, and you won't go tryin' to keep me out of harms way."

Jack shook his head. "You drive a hard bargain Miss Swann." His eyes drooped a little, he wanted, really wanted, to sleep.

"I know…And it's not Miss Swann any more." She rested her head against his shoulder.

"Elizabeth then?"

"How about Mrs. …Sparrow?" Jack looked at her his eyebrows raised sharply in mild shock."

"Wha…uh…um…" He fumbled.

"We'll talk about it later, why don't we?"

He shook his head again, resolving not to consider any alarming prospects until he was quite drunk. "Here you are then." He proffered the chalk again. "Chart your own course, you pirate."

"Any suggestions?" Elizabeth asked, rolling up her sleeves and stepping to the table.

"Well…once a reliable source told me about a treasure…one that only I could find."

Elizabeth smiled intrigued.

Together they examined charts, her listening to his vague and somewhat exaggerated tales of gold and curses. Then they watched the sunrise.

TheVeryEnd


End file.
